The Katarn Side
by Darth Marrs
Summary: An aged, broken Jedi general came to Earth hoping to retire. However, when he went to a park and saw a young boy with unlimited Force potential getting the snot beat out of him, he knew the Force was not through making his life interesting.
1. The Kyle Side

**The Kyle Side**

A Fanfiction by Darth Marrs

Summary: How the hell did Jedi Master Kyle Katarn end up in Hogwarts?

Disclaimer: Don't own anything—most especially not the Kyle Katarn jokes that sprinkle this fic. Those are taken from a variety of online sources, most of which originated as Chuck Norris jokes. Included under Fair Use. None of this is intended to be distributed for profit.

* * *

 **Chapter One: The Kyle Side**

-There's the Light Side of the Force, the Dark Side of the Force and then the Kyle Side of the Force.

Harry Potter groaned and tried to hold his sides after the latest round of "Harry Hunting" left him in terrible pain and barely able to sit up. Around him, the rest of the park was quiet. All the younger kids had run away when Dudley came, Harry included. Unfortunately, unlike the others, Harry didn't get away.

"Why do you put up with that poodoo, kid?"

Harry blinked and looked up to see a grizzled, iron-bearded man sitting nearby on the park bench staring at him with deep brown eyes. The man looked large and muscular despite his obvious age, but sat perfectly still as if waiting breathlessly for Harry's answer.

"What 'em supposed to do?" Harry muttered. "There were more of them."

"Kick the big one in the balls a few times," the old man suggested. "Once they figure out you'll fight back, they'll go find easier prey."

The man sounded oddly…well, foreign, Harry guessed. He did not quite have an American accent, or an Australian accent, or Canadian. He sounded neither Welsh nor Cockney—it sounded odd.

"Then he'll tell my uncle, and I'll get whipped and thrown in the cupboard for a week without any food again," Harry muttered to himself. He then looked up in panic when he realized he said that aloud.

The old man's eyes had narrowed and his beard seemed to jut out, and in a brief instant Harry had the strangest feeling that he was looking at quite possibly the most dangerous man alive.

"Really?" He drew the word out, pouring whole novels of meaning into the single word. "Well, I'm new to these parts so I'm not sure how everyone lives, but I'm fairly certain you people have laws to prevent child abuse. Let's go talk to this uncle of yours."

"Sir, please, really, it's okay, it's…."

The old man grabbed Harry's arm—not hard enough to hurt like Uncle Vernon would have done—but firmly enough to prevent any possibility of escape—and began marching down the street. "Where do you live, kid?"

"Sir, I'm sorry I said anything, but you're just going to make things…"

"Where do you live, kid?" the old man said again in a voice of steel.

"Number 4 Privet Drive, sir," Harry said under his breath, cowed despite his determination not to let this old man make his life more miserable than it already was.

The two of them marched away from the park until they reached Number 4 Privet Drive; once there the old man looked down at Harry. "What's your name, son?" he asked, for the first time moderating his tone into something almost, but not quite, gentle.

"Harry, sir."

"And you live with your uncle?"

"Yes, sir. And my aunt."

Harry felt something pressing against his brain, and memories began bubbling up to the front of his mind, almost like a movie playing against the back of his eyes showing the six miserable years of existence he had spent with the Durselys. The old man nodded and broke eye-contact, his bearded jaw jutting once again.

"I don't like child abusers," he growled.

And with that, he walked right up to the front door and kicked it down.

An hour later, Harry Potter left the Dursleys forever. A day after that, the Dursleys left Little Whinging forever.

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

Kyle Katarn, as Harry learned was the old man's name, did not live anywhere near Surrey. In fact, he lived nowhere near London at all, but instead made his home near a small village called Knott End-on-Sea, which was almost as far from London as it was possible to be while still in Britain.

Harry learned this, and a lot more, during the four hour drive to Kyle's home. He learned, for instance, that Kyle Katarn owned his own vehicle—a brand-new 1988 Toyota 4Runner. He learned that Kyle did not talk very much; and he learned that Kyle Katarn scared him in a way he never thought he could be scared before—and not just because of the way he so quickly convinced the Dursleys to let him go with him.

"Sir," Harry asked in the second hour of their trip, "are you going to kill me?"

The old man snorted and looked down incredulously at Harry a moment, before laughing. The laughter did nothing to lesson his terrifying persona. "Kill you? Boy, if I was going to kill you you'd have been dead in the park. No, I've been looking for you almost since I got to this Force-forsaken planet. Still don't know why yet, but no, I'm not going to kill you. I'm going to train you."

Harry opened his mouth to ask what he meant by that, but then closed his mouth and instead clung to the idea that Kyle was not going to kill him. One step at a time was Harry's motto in life.

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

They arrived at a surprisingly nice bungalow across the Wyre estuary from Fleetwood. "Come on, kid," the old man said as he led Harry inside.

The house had almost no furnishings at all. What would have been a living room looked instead like a rough and tumble room, with thick inter-locking pads softening the floor and piles of cushions around the edges like chairs. The dining area did have a table, but it was cluttered with piles of strange, plastic-like sheaths that looked almost like paper. As Harry looked, he saw something flash across one of the sheaths like a TV, even though it was the thickness of a piece of paper.

Kyle pointed to one of the two stools lining a bar that looked into the kitchen: "Sit."

Harry did so, trying not to shake. He watched with interest as Katarn removed a small black box from the cooler, ripped off the lid, and placed it before the boy. Harry was startled to see steam coming off the suddenly warm plate of unidentifiable food. A moment later Kyle handed him a fork. "I can't say it's the best thing in the world to eat, but it's warm, filling and supplemented with all the vitamins and minerals you need."

"What is it?"

"An old Meal Ready To Eat ration from my ship. Think of it like boot leather with gravy."

It wasn't that bad, and beat having nothing at all, so Harry ate. Harry watched Kyle as he did so. The man puttered about the mostly empty kitchen until he found a glass and poured tap water for Harry to drink.

"Okay, let's get down to it," Kyle declared. He walked to the table and grabbed one of the blinking, glowing sheaths of not-paper. "Harry James Potter. Age 8. Son of James and Lily Potter, deceased. Foster Parent: Kyle Katarn. Blah blah blah…"

"Sir?"

"What, kid?"

"What are you doing?"

"I'm slicing into the government records to show me as your guardian."

"With a sheet of paper?"

"It's a magic paper," Kyle said, winking even as he continued running his fingers over the strange surface. "There, that should do it. You're now officially my ward."

"Why…why are you doing this?"

"Damned if I know," Kyle said with a shrug. "I came here to get away from it all, not get involved with local problems. Figured this place was as far from the center of the galaxy as possible—in the middle of a Sith-damned black-out zone in the further reaches of the Unknown Region. And wouldn't you know the moment I get settled, the Force sends me out on a wild Rancor-chase to find you. What's special about you, I wonder?"

"Nothing, sir. I'm just Harry."

"Well, just Harry, the Force says otherwise. And I'll say you have one Sith-strong Force presence for such a scrawny little runt. I don't even think Anakin Solo had your glow as a kid." The last was said with great, deep sorrow.

Harry had no idea what to say or what to do, so he sat quietly in front of his empty MRE and stared down at his hands.

The moment of peace didn't last long. "And here they come," Kyle said from the living room, where he had walked and just stood.

A moment later, a man appeared almost beside Kyle right out of thin air. Harry jumped and yelped in shock. Kyle did more than that—he held out a hand and the man flailed back in surprise, before he received an incredibly powerful round-house kick that sent him sprawling into the wall.

"Get down, kid," Kyle said calmly as another man appeared in thin air—this time a tall, black-skinned man with no hair.

Kyle made a strange jerking motion with his hand and the newcomer went flying through the door into the back garden of the bungalow. A third man appeared and collapsed just as fast under the heel of Kyle Katarn's merciless foot. One after the other, strangely dressed men and women appeared out of thin air, and the second they did Kyle was there, seeming to know exactly where they would appear. He moved in silence, his jaw jutting out and his eyes narrowed with grim determination.

Finally, the last to arrive as a very old man dressed like the wizard from that Disney King Arthur movie, complete with a pointed, cone-shaped hat and robes. Kyle was already in motion when the eldest of the strange people appeared, but at the very last split second his foot stopped, a hair's breadth from the very long, delicate nose of the latest arrival.

Kyle let his foot drop as the old wizard blinked in surprise. "I was wondering when you would run out of lackeys."

The old man looked around the room with widened, frightened eyes. "Are they dead?"

"Not yet, but the day's still young. Who are you?"

"My name is Albus Dumbledore."

Katarn blinked. "Dumbledore? Really?"

"I assure you that is my name."

"Sorry 'bout that. Must have been a pain as a kid."

"And yet, I assure you, I survived. And you are?"

"About one second from removing your head," Kyle said, all hint of humor gone. "I figure you're here for the boy, but coming into a man's home without invitation is a good way to get your skinny old ass vaped."

As Kyle and the strange old man with the funny name spoke, Harry watched as the tall, dark-skinned man stumbled up to the shattered door with a stick pointed right at Kyle and an angry expression on his face.

Harry started to shout a warning when the attacker suddenly flew forward like a bullet, only to stop in mid air before a golden, glowing sword that seemed to appear from the end of what looked to Harry like a torch. The tip of the blade was just an inch from the floating, dark-skinned man's chest, while the handle of it fit snugly in Kyle's hand.

"So, how are we going to do this?" Kyle asked with deceptive levity. "Will I have to kill all your minions before you realize that you do not want me as an enemy? Or will you send your people back the way they came and have a civilized conversation? Because I've got to tell you, Dumbledore, I don't really care either way."

Harry waited with the utter stillness of terror while around them, wary strangers in even stranger clothes regained their feet and stared wide-eyed at the tableau.

"Do you truly believe you could do that, my friend?" the old wizard asked.

"Are you willing to test their lives to find out?"

The ancient man wilted. "No, in fact I am not. Please, my friends, return. I will remain behind to inquire as to Mr. Potter's well-being."

As quickly as they came, the newcomers popped right back out of existence, including at the last the dark-skinned man. When they were gone, the golden sword disappeared with a _snick_ -sound before the remaining cylinder hung on the belt of Katarn's slacks.

"Good, I just cleaned," Katarn muttered. "Have a seat, Mr. Dumbledore." He motioned the barstool next to the one a still paralyzed and terrified Harry sat on.

"Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said as he walked over. "Are you quite all right?"

Harry nodded silently.

A moment later a cup of strange, bubbling fluid appeared in front of Dumbledore. Katarn had an identical cup in hand. "I'm not familiar with this particular drink," Dumbledore said.

"I'd hope not. It's Ithorian Firewater, my best stock. It took 48,000 light years to get here, so drink up."

Dumbledore blinked. "I'm sorry, what is a light year?"

"About ten trillion kilometers. This drink was brewed on a planet so far away that the light of its star would take 48,000 years to reach Earth." With that, Katarn downed the whole cup in one great chug. Dumbledore raised one elegant white brow and tasted his own.

"How remarkable," he croaked afterward. He too then finished the whole cup. "I take it then that you believe you are not of this Earth?"

"Nope."

"And how did you come to be here, Mr…."

"Kyle Katarn. And I came in a ship, which is currently on your moon under a cloaking shield."

"And why are you here, Mr. Katarn?"

"Originally to retire. Galaxy's gone to hell and no one wants to listen to an old warhorse anymore. But the moment I got here, the Force started pushing me around until I found this boy. And since you came barging right after, you know why. So why don't you tell me what's so special about Harry here, and if he's so special, why you were allowing him to be abused like he was?"

"Abused, Mr. Katarn?"

"Abused. I made a point of learning this bass-ackward language of yours, Dumbledore, so we both know what the word means. Beaten. Starved. Hated. Kept in a closet not as punishment, but as his daily living arrangements."

The old man appeared to have no answer to that, which Kyle seemed to expect. "Here's how it's going to be, my friend. I am Kyle Katarn, Jedi Master, Retired General of the Galactic Alliance, and in general someone you do not want to kriff with. That show you just saw—that was nothing. I am also a servant of the Force, which not only guided me to this planet, but then guided me to sit on a bench in the outskirts of London until I saw Harry here getting the snot beat out of him by a gang of thugs led by his own cousin. He is just brimming with Force potential, which means that I am to train him. I've already hacked into the government computers—he's mine now. But to make sure he doesn't get dead, you're going to tell me why he's important."

Dumbledore stared for a long time at Kyle, and Kyle stared right back without flinching. Looking at the two men, Harry began to suspect that Kyle never flinched, ever. Dumbledore was the one in the end to nod. "You truly are from beyond the stars."

"Yes, I am."

The old, bearded man turned twinkling blue eyes on Harry and smiled sadly. "I was good friends with your parents, Mr. Potter. They were remarkable people, and very powerful. Your father was one of the finest wizards of his class, while your mother was the most brilliant witch of her age. They and others fought with me against a vile dark wizard named Voldemort. He attacked them, but when he tried to kill you, your mother's death somehow granted you a powerful protection that caused his magic to rebound upon him. We found you in the rubble of their house with nothing but that remarkable scar to show what had happened."

Harry stared with a gaping jaw, trying and failing to adjust his understanding of the world to what Dumbledore was telling him.

Kyle, though, looked suspicious. "Why did the bad guy go after Harry if his parents were the threat?"

Dumbledore turned back to look at Kyle. "There are some things Harry is better off not knowing."

"That's no longer your decision," Kyle said with iron in his voice. "So you're going to tell me now, or leave. Why was Harry attacked?"

Dumbledore sighed. "There was a prophecy that predicted a boy born around the time of Harry's birthday would defeat Voldemort. James and Lily were trying to protect Harry, and gave their lives doing so. By that mark, Voldemort confirmed the prophecy, and Harry's place in it."

"But he's gone."

"Gone, but not necessarily dead, hence the Dursleys. The protection his mother gave him was very powerful, and so I tied it to his only other blood relative and wove powerful protective wards around him. But I did not realize they were so…cruel. He was their flesh and blood. It is difficult for me to understand how anyone could treat family like that."

"It's easier than most of us want to admit," Kyle said. "I've seen mothers throw their own babies at enemy forces hoping to buy time for themselves to escape. Then again, I've seen mothers fight monsters barehanded and give their own lives to protect their children. It depends on the person."

Kyle looked at Harry. "You getting all this, kid?"

"I…I don't believe it," Harry said. "Uncle Vernon said my parents were drunks and died in a car crash."

"Uncle Vernon also didn't believe I was willing to kick him in the head, and where did that get him?" Kyle said.

Harry snickered, then immediately looked guilty for laughing at his Uncle's misfortune at the end of Kyle Katarn's foot.

"And now that you have young Harry, Mr. Katarn, what are you doing to do with him?" Dumbledore asked.

"I'm going to train him as a Jedi padawan," Kyle said. "I'm going to first teach him how to learn, and then and I'm going to prepare him for whatever his destiny holds."

Dumbledore nodded sagely as he considered first Kyle, and then Harry. "You should know, Mr. Katarn, that magical education for witches and wizards begins at age 11. At that time, Harry will receive an invitation to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. His role in the first defeat of Voldemort has made him very important to our society. It would be a blow to thousands if he were not to attend."

Kyle's eyes narrowed. "Not going to happen. By age eleven, Jedi younglings and padawans are just coming into their true power. It is a dangerous time, when they will be tempted to use their power for personal ends rather than the greater good. Children who are forced to abandon their training during this time often end up falling to the Dark Side of the Force, thus becoming dangerous both to themselves and the greater galaxy. The soonest I would be willing to let him emerge from training would be seventeen—and even then I would have to stay by him until he passes his trials—most Jedi are not ready until they are in their twenties."

Dumbledore frowned and stroked his beard—nearly yanking it as he did so. "I'm afraid that would be problematic for us, Mr. Katarn. I personally vouched for Mr. Potter's whereabouts, and if he fails to appear at Hogwarts, there could be sever repercussions."

Kyle leaned forward and pierced the headmaster with dark brown, merciless eyes. "That's your problem. I know what you're thinking—you could grab the kid and pop away like the rest of your lackeys. I will have both your arms on the floor before you could even touch him."

The old wizard sat perfectly still, blinking bright blue eyes at the Jedi Master. "I do not understand your interest in this, Mr. Katarn. Harry for us is a savior—an important symbol for our survival as a society. I was close friends with his parents, grandparents and great grandparents. I was named the executor of his parent's will, and in the absence of his godfather, his magical guardian. I am motivated to protect him by the bonds of love and responsibility. What are you motivated by?"

"The Force," Kyle said simply.

"And if Voldemort returns and finds himself unopposed because our savior was not here?" Dumbledore asked.

Kyle snorted with such overwhelming contempt Harry felt his cheeks burn. "Dumbledore, if you're placing all your hopes on one boy instead of standing up for yourself, then you _deserve_ to die, you coward."

Dumbledore reared back as if struck, but Katarn didn't relent. "You want the boy to survive? To lead your people if this Voldemort comes back? Then leave me alone to train him as a Jedi. Don't interfere. I know the boy has a destiny—the Force does not select its champions lightly, and it is obvious he has been chosen. He will be a powerful Jedi—perhaps one of the greatest in the New Order. And when he is ready, we will return to your world. In the meantime, old man, do your job. You're obviously a leader—lead your people. Do what you must to prepare for this creature's return. Don't put all your credits on one boy.

"It appears then that this conversation is concluded then," Dumbledore said flatly.

"It is. Oh, and Dumbledore?"

"Yes?"

"If you or yours return to try and take the boy, I won't just kick your heads, I'll take them off."

Dumbledore bowed his head, and suddenly disappeared with a loud pop that made Harry jump.

* * *

A/N: As one of the last two stories I plan to post in the near future, I've chosen not to have this beta read. Please take that into consideration when choosing to read. This is a more intimate story than most-it does not deal with the same epic scale as others I've written. If you're looking for a point of comparison, it does have some similarities to The Boy Who Fell. I'll discuss more in my forums after I start posting in earnest. I will continue posting after Revenge of the Wizard is finished.


	2. Lemons and Lemonade

A/N: Chap 1 Reviews and some brief notes about Kyle and the SW Timeline are in my newly minted Katarn Side forum.

Thanks for reading!

* * *

 **Chapter Two: Lemons and Lemonade**

-Once, Life handed Kyle Katarn lemons. Kyle immediately put those lemons

in a sock and proceeded to beat the shit out of Life

with them until it learned to never repeat that mistake.

On his first full day living with Kyle Katarn, Harry went shopping for clothes for the very first time in his conscious life.

They went into Fleetwood for the day picking up clothes—pants, trousers, jim-jams, more trousers, trainers, jumpers, wellies—everything he needed to be decent in public and comfortable. He carried the bags with a sense of awe as he stumbled along behind Kyle. The man moved quickly without seeming to, which made it look like he was strolling casually while Harry had to run to keep up.

The next purchase was a bed—Harry's very own, honest-to-goodness bed. It was nothing too special—a box spring and mattress with a metal frame that hung out the back of the Toyota. They tested Kyle's car that day since they also picked up a wardrobe and a boxed desk set that Kyle would have to put together later.

They grabbed fish and chips from the market. All this time, Kyle said hardly three words to Harry, other than instructions to keep up, or questions on what clothing colors he liked. Harry wavered between love and terror—love because he'd never had his own clothes or his own furniture before; Kyle was spending hundreds of pounds on him without hesitation. Terror because…well, it was Kyle Katarn, the man who kicked his uncle in the head. Who wouldn't be terrified?

They set up Harry's bedroom when they got back, and when that was done Kyle led him into the car park and a large black box there that reminded Harry of a scary Mummy movie he saw once. Kyle tapped a few buttons on the side and the box opened with a whir of servos to reveal a silver robot.

The robot looked almost human—two legs, two arms. Its body was plated in silver, save for a strip around its mid-drift where its wires showed. Almost immediately its round eyes lit up. "Good morning, Master Kyle," the droid said in a distinctively female voice.

"It's evening, D-DH532. We're on a planet with a 24 hour day. Can you plug into the nearest computer systems and adjust your chronometer?"

"One moment, Master Kyle." The droid went perfectly still before its arms jerked. "How…distasteful. I have adjusted my chronometer for local time. Master Kyle, are you aware that the local computer systems lack any type of artificial intelligence at all and only the most rudimentary networking capabilities?"

"Yes, we're on a pre-space industrial planet," Kyle said. "We're in hiding, which means that you need to engage your camouflage systems or stay out sight when we have company."

Harry gaped as the robot shimmered before his eyes and became…human. She looked like a matronly woman with curled auburn hair and an oval, rather non-descript face. If anything, she reminded Harry of his 2nd Year teacher.

"A holographic system," Kyle explained dryly to Harry. "She can appear to be anyone she scans. I actually have two of these, but I only use one at a time. Dee Dee, this is Harry Potter, my padawan learner."

"Padawan, Master Kyle?" The robot said. Her mouth moved perfectly in time to the words, even though it was only a hologram. "Did you not tell me Corellia would crack in half before you took another apprentice?"

"Yes, I did. And for all I know it may have. Nonetheless, this is my Padawan, Harry Potter. Harry, this is my domestic droid, D-DH532. I call her Dee Dee or Dee for short. I don't do laundry, I don't cook, and I don't clean if I can help it. Dee does, but you're going to help her too. Mainly she's going to keep the house livable. Understand?"

"Yes, Kyle."

"Good. Dee, I've obtained some groceries and a few cookbooks. Please prepare dinner while I begin my Padawan's instruction."

"Yes, Master Kyle."

"What am I going to learn, sir?" Harry asked tentatively.

"How old are you again, Harry?"

"I'm eight, sir. And a half."

"Well, Harry, age eight and a half, I'm going to teach you how to learn. It's the first, most important lesson a Jedi can have, and without it you'll never reach your full potential. The Jedi over tens of thousands of years have developed techniques to maximize the mind's ability to receive and retain new information and skills. And once we have that done, we'll get into the fun stuff."

"Am I…going to go to school, sir?"

"No," Kyle said without pause. "I've registered you as home-schooled. I've already ordered some materials you can study on your own to ensure you can fit in here, but mass education is by its very nature geared toward the lowest common denominator. The Force is telling me you have a lot to learn and we can't afford to allow the education here to slow you down."

Harry felt a touch of sadness that he wouldn't be around other kids, but then realized even when he was, it was rarely fun. Dudley made sure of that.

The next day, Kyle began teaching Harry to learn, and the first steps to his new life truly began.

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

The days blended into weeks and then months. Jedi learning techniques involved meditation and mental organization. It was really hard, day after day, to imagine a library in his brain and fill it up with memories. And yet, after a month of intense meditation broken up only by occasional bouts of exercise or meals and sleep, Harry found the library easier to use and access. He found himself dreaming about it at night, and in the morning he began to file away the day's events with hardly any conscious effort into his personal library, under a file he called "Periodicals."

By this sixth week of instruction in the art of learning, Kyle pronounced him ready to actually start learning things, and so they did.

Harry's schooling continued every day, though Kyle gave him Sundays to just play or rest. Sometimes they spent the entire day talking about Roman history, and the next about the Force Wars of Tython and the founding of Ossus. After every discussion, he and Kyle would meditate so that Harry could file away the information he learned, and the next day Kyle would ask him to repeat it back to him, verbatim.

Kyle did not give Harry written tests. Instead he asked him questions all the time, many times about things they had never even studied. The questions Harry soon learned were prompts for him to use the flimsiplasts that Kyle had scattered around the house to look something up.

If a question resulted in a two-hour long talk, Kyle seemed fine with it. He also taught Harry Galactic Basic and Aurabesh, the written version of Basic. "You need to know the language of the galaxy to read about it," Kyle said.

Of course, there was also the physical side of Harry's instruction. He ran until he felt sick. He tumbled until he was dizzy; and played dodge-ball all the time. It was during dodge ball that he first accessed the Force. He was weaving his way around the balls that Kyle was throwing at him, doing his best to avoid them since they stung with each hit. Suddenly he felt his body moving almost as if being controlled by another, and yet still doing so at his will. He moved faster than he could ever remember moving, and the balls seemed to slow down so much he could see before Kyle even threw them where they would go.

When the match was over, Kyle nodded. "About time," he said.

"What was that?"

"That was the Force. Frankly with your potential you should have tapped it ages ago, but I think this local 'magic' was interfering with you grasping it. Looks like you finally broke through, though. Now we can get into your real training."

"You mean this wasn't real?"

"Not by half."

For some reason, that scared Harry, and his fear turned out to be well founded. The next day, they went running. Kyle showed Harry how to tap into the Force to strengthen himself and increase his stamina, but even so running ten miles at the pace Kyle set was terrible.

Kyle didn't seem to care, and they did it every morning rain or shine, snow or ice. And in that corner of England, there was a lot of snow and ice, but not much shine.

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

Kyle rarely slept. Harry did not realize this until his eighth month of living with the man. The young padawan lay in his bed, trying with limited success to use the Force to ease the pain of his over-used muscles, when he heard a loud thump from the living room.

Cautiously, Harry snuck out of his room to the living room, where he found Kyle passed out and slumped half over the coffee table, and half on the floor. Harry stood frozen, terrified at seeing this seemingly invulnerable man in such a vulnerable position. As he moved closer, he spotted motion from one of the flimsiplasts and lifted it up to look.

Like a television, it showed woman standing on an exotic, alien world with an impossibly large moon hanging in a violet sky. The woman was attractive, with black hair hanging about her face. She looked like she was almost, but not quite Asian. She was speaking, but the flimsiplast's sound volume was off. She then ripped the camera out of the camera man's hands and turned it on him. It showed a younger, happier Kyle Katarn joking about something.

Harry watched as Kyle surged forward, snagged the woman around the waist and kissed her soundly, all while the woman continued to record them.

"I see Master Katarn has finished celebrating," Dee Dee said as she walked into the room with a whirring of her servos. "You should be in bed, Young Master."

"What was he celebrating, Dee?" Harry asked.

"His wedding anniversary."

"He's married? Where is his wife?"

"She is dead, Young Master. Mr. Katarn has lost everyone he has cared for. They never had children, but his padawans filled that role. Unfortunately several turned to the Dark Side, or were killed fighting those who did. Most tragic. But now you must go to sleep, young master. I will attend to Master Katarn."

Harry put the flimsiplast down on the table before looking at the drunken figure of his master. "Thank you for telling me," he said sadly before he went to his room.

Kyle was awake at sunrise the next morning without any sign of the evening's activities, but Harry remembered, and that memory couldn't help but change the way he looked at the hard man who had taken control of his life. He stopped being frightened of Kyle, since he finally realized that his master was as human as he was.

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

The night before Harry's tenth birthday, they were attacked.

It started with a loud wailing sound that reverberated through the house. Harry shot up out of a dead sleep in terror, scanning his room for intruders. Unfortunately, he found one—a figure draped in a black cloak with a silver mask that shone with the dim streetlight coming through the curtains of his window.

The figure raised a wand, and remembering what his master told him, Harry kicked off the wall, launching himself from the bed as a flash of green struck the bed and made it start burning. Harry rolled to his feet and then dove at his attacker before the man could locate him in the dark room.

Emerging from his roll, Harry stuck his head between the man's legs and rammed his shoulders as hard as he could into the man's knees, while at the same time gripping his heels with his hands. Now, Harry wasn't the largest ten-year-old in the world, but at over eighty pounds he wasn't exactly a light weight, and most of that was muscle.

The man cried out in pain at the assault on his knees and fell backward toward Harry's bed. Harry heard the heavy _thud_ of the back of the man's head and neck slamming against the large wooden knob at the top of his footboard. When his attacker did not move, he grabbed the wizard's wand and snapped it in half.

Moving slowly and carefully, he emerged from his room into the hall and saw lights from the living room, along with sounds and voices. He ran down the hall, not pausing at all by the door into the living area, and instead ran into Kyle's room.

Like his own, the room was sparsely furnished, with a single-wide bed and wood frame, a wardrobe, and a desk. He reached for the desk, pulled open the lower right hand drawer, and after removing the false bottom, retrieved Kyle's trusty Bryar pistol. It was a weapon Harry was familiar with because of heavy drilling and weapons safety instructions.

He crept slowly back to the living room and saw Kyle wielding his golden lightsaber against a whole room of black-clad, silver-masked men. Two were already dead, judging by the bodies on the floor. Kyle himself seemed to be moving slower than normal, and even in the dim light Harry could see an expression of pain on his face.

Even as Harry watched, Kyle lashed out with a burst of blue Force-lightning. Three of the ten men somehow created shields that intercepted the lightning, while the other seven shouted _"Crucio!"_

To Harry's horror, Kyle staggered again, though he retained his feet. Realizing with a cold knot of terror in his stomach that his master was genuinely in danger, Harry took a deep breath to center himself in the Force like he was taught, stepped out from behind the wall, took aim, and started firing. He had five shots off in as many seconds; red blaster bolts burned easily through the silver masks, dropping the dark wizards easily.

By the fifth the dark wizards realized where the new danger was and turned to deal with it, and that is when Kyle struck. He rushed forward with his saber swinging, and had all the remaining attackers on the floor dead before Harry could take another shot.

Master and apprentice stood in the sudden, shocking silence that followed for almost a minute before Kyle said, "The one in your room?"

"Out," Harry reported dutifully. "I broke his wand."

"Well done, padawan," Kyle said in a ragged breath. "Very well done." The old Jedi walked stiffly toward Harry, and then past him to his room. Harry saw the golden light reflected from Kyle's blade as it slashed something. A moment later Kyle emerged and walked, still stiff, to his own room. He almost made it to his bed before collapsing.

"Master!" Harry cried in alarm. He rushed to Kyle's side and knelt down, tears in his eyes. "Master…Kyle! What should I do? What can I do?"

"Peace, harry," Kyle said weakly. "Help me to my bed."

Harry strained both muscle and Force ability to get Kyle to his bed. "The magic they used was not what I expected," Kyle admitted. "It was based on pain and hatred—as bad as anything I've felt from the Dark Side of the Force. I must enter a healing trance. I know this is difficult for you, Harry, but we must remove those bodies. Ask DeeDee for the Tenloss. It will disintegrate the bodies. And then…and then begin packing everything. It is time to go—perhaps long past time. I have tarried here for your comfort and my own, but it has placed us both in danger."

"Where will we go, Kyle?"

"The Jedi Praxeum on Ossus. Go now, Harry. I must heal before I can do anything else."

"Yes, master!"

Harry ran until he reached DeeDee's charging station in the carpark and had the droid active. "DeeDee! Master Kyle has been hurt. He told me to ask you for the Tenloss."

DeeDee's holographical human eyes stared at him a moment before, in a motherly tone, she said, "Goodness, that is an awful weapon. Why would he tell you to ask for it?"

"We need to disintegrate some bodies."

"Oh Goodness, Master Kyle," the droid said, managing to sound put-upon. "Very well, come then."

She emerged from her station and led Harry through several crates in the carpark. He noticed several were filled with what looked like bars of gold and platinum, which was how the old Jedi was funding his retirement on a planet that did not accept Alliance or Imperial credits.

The final crate, though, was filled with a wide variety of weapons. "Wow," Harry whispered as he looked down at the many weapons. He recognized Kyle's now ancient DE-11 Blaster Rifle he received as a young Stormtrooper cadet, but some he had no idea what they were. "What's that?" he asked DeeDee.

"That, young master, is Master Katarn's Stouker concussion rifle. I would recommend you be careful, as two shots could level this whole structure."

"And that?"

"Master Katarn's Heavy Repeater. It also is quite dangerous. And here it is, the Tenloss DXR-6 Disrupter Rifle—a tool of assassination."

Harry accepted the weapon from the droid, feeling a sense of danger from the Force just by touching the surprisingly light weapon. "How do I operate it to disintegrate bodies?"

"The trigger is duel-touch activated. Pull it to the first catch and it begins to power the shot; press the trigger home to release the shot. To disintegrate a body, charge the shot to its maximum setting before firing. Be very careful, young master. This weapon truly is deadly."

"Thanks, DeeDee. In the meantime, Master Kyle said it was time to leave. We're to pack up."

"Very well, Young Master."

Harry walked back into the house, intensely grateful for the darkness that shrouded the bodies in shadow. He found the first one, pointed the rifle at it, and pulled the trigger too hard. Instead of disintegrating the body, a thin stream of orange light burned a hole through it. With a sigh, Harry tried again, listing to the low whine of the disrupter until the next shot was charged, and fired.

The body took on an orange glow before it burned away entirely, leaving nothing but an outline of dust.

With a total of thirteen attackers, Harry ran out of shots by the ninth body and had to go back for another power-cell. Evidently the rifle only had ten shots per pack when using the full power necessary to disintegrate a whole body. He finally reached the body in his room and had to fire twice—once for the body, once for the head lying a few feet from the body.

He meandered back into the living room to see DeeDee dutifully vacuuming up the dust piles. "DeeDee, I can't afford to sleep with Master Kyle healing, so I should start packing. What should I do first?"

"According to my instructions, we are to take only those things not native to this world. Please gather all flimsiplasts or holovids and take them to the crates in the garage. You should also pack your personal effects since we may not return for some time."

"What about the house?"

"We will retain it in Master's name," the droid said. "Master Kyle created a large account with a law firm to oversee his real property on this world. Never fear, the home will be here when we return."

Harry, not entirely mollified, nodded and turned to finish packing. In the two years he had been with Kyle, this house had been more of a home than Privet Drive ever was, and the thought of leaving it filled Harry with worry and fear. But the thought of those black-clad men who somehow broke into their house despite the defensive systems Kyle installed at all doors and windows terrified Harry as well.

Worst of all, seeing his Master stumble filled Harry with a profound dread that was difficult to even admit, much less face. And so, despite being exhausted, he worked and packed throughout the night, until every sign of Kyle's off-world origins was safely contained in the four large crates in the car park. He considered taking the crates to the truck, but they were too large for him to carry and he was not confident enough in his telekinesis to levitate such a large container.

Besides which, he was fairly certain Kyle's Toyota would only hold one of them.

Finally, as the sun was rising, Harry stumbled to his room, but not to sleep. Instead, he grabbed his pillow and a blanket before he moved back to Kyle's room. He laid down at the foot of Kyle's bed, pulled the blanket over him, and let the exhaustion carry him away to oblivion.

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

Harry woke with a start at the touch of a hand. He blinked away his sleep and rubbed his eyes before staring into the old, grizzled face of his master. When he was younger, it was easy not to think of Kyle as old. But after seeing his master stumble last night, what he saw now made him realize that his master was a truly ancient human.

His face was not just grizzled, it was tanned like leather, with deep lines around his eyes and mouth. His hair was thinning, though he cut it so short to his scalp it wouldn't matter, and his hands were covered in liver spots and protruding veins. And yet, for all his years, he still seemed so strong and confident.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

Kyle smiled dryly. "I'm better. Movers will be taking the crates to my landing site today. You did a good job packing."

Harry ducked his head in a nod. "What do we do now?"

"Now? Well, seeing as this is your last day on the planet for a while, and it just happens to be your Lifeday, I say we celebrate. Ever been to Blackpool?"

Harry couldn't help but sit up in excitement. "Really?"

"Really. Get cleaned up and dress—I see you left your personal things out. And when you're ready, we'll get a bite to eat on the way to Blackpool. Then, when we're done, we'll head to the landing site."

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

Harry didn't truly appreciate how close Blackpool was to Knott End-on-Sea until they reached the amusement park after just over half-an hour of driving. Harry tried his very best to contain his excitement when Kyle pulled the Toyota onto the vast asphalt sea that was the parking lot of the park.

Kyle paid for the most expensive wristband, giving Harry free unlimited access to every ride in the park, and then handed him nearly forty pounds before setting him free. The old Jedi didn't join Harry on any of the rides; and Harry didn't really mind. Throughout the day he cast worried glances at his master, spotting the occasional slips in Kyle's countenance to show that he was not fully recovered from his fight the previous night. So if Kyle chose to sit and rest while Harry enjoyed himself, then Harry was just as grateful for the opportunity. He'd never been to anything like Blackpool Pleasure Beach, and was frankly overwhelmed for the first hour.

Eventually, Kyle retired to a restaurant to rest and drink a sports drink while Harry had free rein of the park. He rode the roller coasters again and again, laughing with the other kids as if he were just like they were.

If he did better at the arcades than other kids, no one seemed to mind, especially when he made a point of giving any prizes he won to whichever younger child happened to be closest. Nor did he linger at any one game so as to bother the men running the games overly much. It was, after all, their livelihood, and he did not want to detract from that.

With money Kyle had given him, he ate ice cream and funnel cakes, rode the ghost train and screamed with the rest despite not truly being scared. Instead, he screamed with the rest because it was just so much fun just to scream with other kids.

It was the single best day Harry could remember in the whole of his life; the fact it came on the heels of an attack that scared him more than anything he could remember just made the joy that much more visceral.

Finally, though, after riding the roller coaster for the tenth time, he felt a pull at the back of his mind, and knew the day was over. He cast one more fond look at the park and the happy, laughing people that moved through it and walked to the restaurant where Kyle waited patiently.

The old Jedi had obviously been meditating and healing while Harry had fun—he looked better than he did that morning. "Did you have fun, Harry?"

"I did, Kyle," Harry said, beaming at the old warrior. "It's been the best day I've ever had. Thank you!"

Overwhelmed by emotion—fear and happiness and an uncertainty of the future—Harry hugged his master for the first time since he was eight. More shocking still was when Kyle hugged him back. "Happy birthday, Harry," Kyle said softly. "I'm glad it was a good one. Are you ready to go now?"

Not trusting himself to speak, Harry instead nodded and smiled up at his Master. He was ready.


	3. Coming to the Mountain

**Chapter Three: Coming to the Mountain**

If the mountain will not come to Kyle Katarn, the mountain will die.

Harry rode in silence in the front seat beside Kyle as they drove back to Knott-End-on-Sea. However, they did not drive back to the house but rather to Kyle's golf club, of all places. It was dark by the time they parked the Toyota in one of the paid member's spaces. Given the late hour, theirs was the only vehicle there.

However, in the center of the lot, Harry saw the four large crates that used to fill the car park of their house. "Good," Kyle said when he saw the crates. He climbed out of the car with a grunt of effort and Harry followed immediately after.

Though he suspected he knew what was happening, he was not entirely sure and did not want to ask. After such a great day, he did not want to bother Kyle with what the old Jedi termed as "unnecessary questions."

From the pocket of the khaki slacks Kyle wore, he removed what looked like a thick bracelet or vambrace which he slapped over his forearm. He then began tapping buttons. In response, Harry heard a loud pair of beeps, like from a car alarm. Only, there was no car.

"Even better," Kyle said with a grin. He walked up past the crates and reached over his head as if to point at the dark sky, only instead he began twisting his wrist as if grappling something. A moment later, the night split in two before a line of light from nowhere. Harry stared as the light eased to reveal the interior of what had to by Kyle's ship.

"Came down guided by a beacon in the crates," Kyle explained absently. "Glad the old bird still works." Harry walked around to get a better look into the ship. As he did so, a thick, low-slung sled slid down the ramp, buoyed by nothing. Harry knew from his studies that there were repulsor coils in the sled, and it was these coils that formed the basis of almost all hovercraft technology throughout the galaxy. There were other technologies to counter gravity, but none were as efficient, or simple, as the repulsor coil.

"Slip that into one of the crates and let's start loading, shall we?" Kyle said.

Harry rode the sled like a skateboard to the nearest crate. It took only a moment's study to see that the crate was designed to accommodate the sled, with a slot at its base that the sled slid into seamlessly. Instantly the crate itself, which was as tall as Harry and four times as wide, lifted noiselessly from the ground.

As he brought the crate around, Kyle pulled a hook and rope down from inside the vessel, connected it to the crate, and using that pulled it up the ramp until it was stored safely. The cargo hold was not large—perhaps the same size as their car park, but it was very efficient. Once the crate was in place, something in the wall lifted it up and over along a built-in track. By the second crate, Harry saw all four crates would be stored solidly against just one wall, leaving the rest of the hold free. When all four were backed securely, Harry saw what else Kyle planned to bring—the Toyota itself. The SUV fit snugly in the remaining space.

"Come on in, I'm closing her up," Kyle said. Harry walked back up the ramp and followed Kyle through the now packed area with his duffel back slung on one shoulder. They passed through a narrow doorway into separate section of the ship.

The very first door on his right was to be Harry's quarters. It was a small, cramped space with a bunk that folded out from the wall, a desk that folded out from the other wall, and opposite that a sink, toilet and small shower.

"That's a sonic shower," Kyle warned. "No water. But it'll get you cleaner anyway. With sonic showers you don't use soap or shampoo; instead the nozzles mist you and then the sound shakes it all off. Also good for kidney and gall stones."

Harry didn't know whether to laugh or not, so instead dropped his bag on the bunk and followed Kyle. There were four such cabins on the ship—Kyle's was opposite his. Past the cabins was the kitchen/recreation room. It was the size of the living room of their house on Earth, with an arched ceiling perhaps twelve feet at its apex and five feet at the extreme sides.

"It's large enough to go through a kata or two," Kyle said.

Finally, they reached the cockpit. It was smaller than Harry initially thought it would be, and incredibly dense with control panels, readouts, screens and switches. The seats themselves were actually sunken from the level they walked in on, with a large bar overhead and thick rungs between the two seats to help pilots climb out.

Kyle climbed down with a grunt of effort. "Come on down, Harry."

Harry did as instructed and watched as Kyle began randomly checking controls before nodding in satisfaction. "This ship has two stealth features—an active cloak, and a passive polymer hull. What that means is even if we disengage the cloak there is not a device on this planet save the human eye that could see us; and given the ship is black, I doubt even then we'll be seen. I tell you this because the cloak is a blind option. Cloaks create a complete visual and sensor break from space—you cannot see into or out of them. However, this ship has a periscope that extends beyond the cloak's field so that it can safely operate while cloaked. Still, given the time of day, we won't need it once we're off the ground."

Indeed, beyond the cockpit windows, all he could see was black, rather than the lights of the town. Nor did he feel the movement of the ship other than a hum as the engines turned on. After a few moments, though, Kyle dropped the cloak and Harry could see nothing but stars and broken clouds ahead, and they were fast approaching those clouds.

What astounded Harry the most was that he felt absolutely nothing. He remembered a television show about space that looked like the astronauts were shoved into their seats. But in Kyle's ship, Harry leaned forward as the clouds fell away, until they were in space itself.

"We need to get clear of the Earth's gravity well and then we'll plot a course for Ossus. It's on the other side of the galaxy, so it'll take a week to get there," Kyle said absently as he piloted his ship.

"Okay," Harry said, not caring in the slightest.

The novelty of space flight wore off after the first twenty minutes. After that, exhaustion from a long, fun day and a sleepless night before set in. Once Kyle had the ship in hyperspace, he set the autopilot and motioned for Harry to go. Once back in his cabin, Harry was asleep within minutes.

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

Over the next week of travel, Harry rehearsed his lightsaber technique with the training sabers in Kyle's ship; learned his daily lessons and then proved he learned his lessons to Kyle, and learned not just how to fly the ship, but also learned about each aspect of the ship as well. They spoke nothing but Basic to get Harry's brain thinking in it before they arrived.

The ship diagrams were so far beyond Harry's understanding he grew frustrated just trying to learn them, but as with everything else, Kyle didn't seem to care. "If something happens to me you need to know how to fly and maintain this ship," he said, more than once, to a stubborn little boy who wanted to give up.

But the flip side of the in-depth lessons was that the week went by fast. Finally the day came for their arrival on Ossus.

Harry wasn't sure what he was expecting, but the reality felt oddly…disappointing. Ossus was a cracked, desolate world, a victim of a nova caused during a past Jedi/Sith war. The Praxeum that existed there did so in large part because no one else wanted the planet. The Jedi, it seemed, were not as popular as they used to be.

The navcom beeped, and a voice said in Basic, "Incoming ship, this is Ossus Navigation Control. Please state your identity and destination."

Kyle sighed. "Here we go," he muttered. He flicked a switch as said, "Ossus Control, this is Jedi Master Kyle Katarn on board the _Preening Crow_. I'm visiting the Praxeum, unless there's something more interesting on this dustbowl to look at."

Harry did not understand the long pause that followed Kyle's statement. "Master Katarn," the speaker finally said. "It's an honor, sir. You're cleared to land. The Praxeum Hangar is available."

"Thank you, Katarn out." Kyle frowned as he leaned back in his seat.

Harry said nothing, since he knew his master would not answer, and instead just watched as the _Preening Crow_ cut effortlessly through the planet's atmosphere, descending down across the baked, barren plains of the world until they reached a massive stone ziggurat that was the Jedi Praxeum.

Harry noticed how his master tensed when he spotted a small crowd forming. "Who are those people, Kyle?"

"Jedi," he said, nearly spitting the word.

He brought the _Crow_ down to a perfect landing in a corner of the cavernous hanger bay before standing. "Grab your bag, Harry. We'll probably be here for a while."

"How long, sir?"

"Until you're ready to move on," Kyle said with a casual shrug.

The ramp opened from the side of the ship and the two stepped out, only to be met by a large crowd of beings in brown and tan robes. Harry tried not to stare at the many non-humans in the crowd. The leader, though, appeared human enough. He was a man of average height with red hair going slightly grey at the temples, and beautiful blue eyes.

"Kyle," the man said with a genuine smile. "I thought I'd never see you again."

"Yeah, me too, Ben. How are you?"

"As good as can be." Those compassionate eyes turned to Harry and widened a little. "Who is this?"

"My padawan, Harry Potter."

"Hello," the other man said. "I am Jedi Master Ben Skywalker. Welcome to Ossus."

"Thank you, sir."

Ben continued staring at Harry until the young man flushed, then looked back to Kyle. "What happened to your vow?"

"The Force kicked my nuts until I took him on; it wasn't my idea," Kyle almost growled. The expression softened, though, when he added, "He's a good kid. Had a hard life and a heavy destiny. But you can see why he needs to be trained."

"I can, he shines with the Force. So he is to be trained here?"

"For now, if you allow it. I've not kept in touch with galactic affairs, but his home grew too dangerous for us. He also needs to build his lightsaber."

"He's young for that."

"The Force tells me his battles will start soon."

Ben nodded. "Very well. Will you join me tonight for dinner? There's someone I would like you to meet."

"Of course, Ben." It felt odd for Harry to hear actual, undiluted affection in his master's voice.

"Good, in the meantime I'll have a padwan show you to your quarters while you stay with us."

That night, Harry met the most beautiful and frightening woman in the galaxy. She had long, luscious brown hair and dark brown eyes. She also had a claw-like tattoo that stretched over her left eye down between her eyes, and two more streaks down her cheeks like tears, with a strange mark in the corner of her mouth that made her look like she was smirking all the time. There was an agelessness about her face—she could have been anywhere from thirty to sixty.

"Vestara Khai," Kyle said. "So you finally gave up trying to kill Ben?"

Harry blinked in surprise at the odd remark, but the woman merely nodded. "I have accepted what I am."

"And what is that?"

"I am neither Sith nor Jedi. I am Gray."

"My cousin Allana has begun collecting Force-strong fighters to the Empire," Ben explained with the hint of a frown. "She calls them Imperial Knights, though I and the Council have classified them as Grey Jedi, since they put the needs of the Emperor above the will of the Force. Still, in some ways it has proven effective, and…" He looked down at the woman with a fond smile, "It has brought my wife peace at last."

"Imperial Knights, huh?" Kyle said. "What does Jaina think about that?"

Ben blinked, before shaking his head. "Of course, you wouldn't know. There was a brief Sith resurgence in Imperial Space. Jaina and Jagged fought bravely to save Allana and the crown prince, but in the end they, and Allana's husband Fyric Fel, died. Allana has assumed the position of Regent for Anakin Solo Fel, the next Emperor. It was that attack which made her initially ask the council for more Jedi. When she was refused, she formed the Imperial Knights."

Kyle ran a hand through his stubble. "I haven't seen Allana since she was a kid. What's she like?"

"She's a person, like any other," Ben said with a shrug. "Given her heritage, it is not surprising she is strong in the Force. She loved Uncle Han and Aunt Leia, and loved Jaina so much that when Han and Leia died, she agreed to let Jaina and Jagged adopt her. After all, she was still a great granddaughter of Darth Vader and had a fairly solid claim to the throne. Adopting her and having her marry Jagged's younger brother bolstered that claim. She even admitted it was a decent match, if politically driven."

This time, Kyle shook his head. "You weren't alive when it happened, but Leia almost made a political marriage before Han convinced her otherwise."

"Well, Leia's granddaughter didn't back out, and as a result she now rules the Empire. She has made some improvements. The days of absolute, tyrannical rule appear to have passed. And she engenders loyalty."

"That she does," Vestara said. "She has the loyalty of many—the Imperial Knights will be a Force to reckon with. No more will my old Sith brethren threaten the galaxy, so long as the Imperial Knights stand strong."

Kyle studied the woman intently. "And what of your son? Is he to be Sith, Jedi or Imperial?"

"Anakol is a Jedi," Ben said resolutely, as if the question had been asked repeatedly and that was the only response he could give. "In fact, he is on a training voyage now with Master Geffer."

"Geffer? You mean Bandy Geffer?"

"Yes."

"I _am_ getting old," Kyle muttered.

"Getting?" Vestara said with one elegantly raised brow. "Master Katarn, you've seen a century or more. You are not getting old, you _are_ old."

Kyle shrugged. "It's not the years, it's the distance that gets you."

They settled down and ate in peace. Harry didn't recognize any of the food, but it looked and smelled good. As they ate, he considered what he'd learned. His master was over a hundred years old? He looked better than most men in their fifties, but the Force told him Vestara was telling the truth.

"So the Triumvir is holding still?" Kyle asked.

"For now," Ben said. "It's managed to keep the peace between Alliance and Imperial Space, but at the same time there has been a more definitive split between former New Republic and Imperial space. The Alliance as a functioning government really only extends to the former New Republic systems, while the Imperial Worlds answer directly to the Regent. The Imperial Trimvir really just acts as a liaison between the two parts of the galaxy. It's an imperfect system, but a functional one. Technically Allana is the Imperial Triumvir."

"Luke always did say Allana was going to end up on a throne."

"Many of us saw her sitting on a throne," Vestara said. "My own father wished to kill her because he foresaw her ruling the Empire."

"She's formed a bridge between the Order and the Empire," Ben said. "Those Imperial Knights do still acknowledge the Order, even if they don't give us allegiance. And though Allana is not Empress, as Regent she is the most powerful single person in the Galaxy right now. Good thing I helped train her."

Finally, after the meal was finished and they moved to the living area for drinks (Harry had a fizzcaf that tasted a little bit like a soda), Kyle ran a hand over his closely shaven head. "I'm sorry I wasn't there when Luke passed into the Force. I felt it, of course. In fact, I'm fairly certain he came and visited me after he died. You know Luke, always trying to make everyone else feel better, even after death."

"Yes," Ben agreed. "And did it work?"

"It helped me decide for sure," Kyle admitted. "Your father and I were good friends, Ben, but we did have different approaches both to life and the Force. He urged me to find peace by letting go of the burdens that weighed me down. But I was never very good at laying down my burdens. So instead I walked away from them. I resigned my commission, and as you know stepped down from the High Council, and I'm glad I did. I have found meaning of a sorts on Earth, with Harry here. He is to be my last padawan learner. After him, I think the Force will finally grant me peace."

The woman, Vestara, looked intently at Harry, causing his cheeks to blush. "Does the boy understand what it means to be trained by the last living Jedi from the original New Order?"

"No, and it doesn't matter," Kyle said. "Being trained by Kyle Katarn can as often be a curse as a blessing. I only took this boy because the Force willed it. But having trained him, I know with absolutely certainty that Harry, at least, will never turn to the Dark Side. He is so thoroughly of the light that not even an abusive family could drive it from him. Maybe through him I'll find atonement for many own many failures."

"A prayer, Kyle?" Ben said

Kyle looked down at the silent, watchful Harry and placed a hand on his shoulder. "No, with this boy, it is a statement of fact. He won't just be the last I train, he'll be the best I ever train."

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

Harry scampered desperately between the legs of the battle droid, using the Force to push himself a little. In doing so, he caused the battle droid to overcompensate as its AI tried to find its target, which sent it tumbling into the other droid Harry was running from in the first place.

Rather than stay and take a breather, Harry rolled immediately to his left to avoid a stunner shot from a third droid, while around him twenty more circled, all shooting incessantly.

Harry ignited his training saber, since he was still studying to build his own, and batted down half the stunner bolts. Of the remaining half, most missed, while he ignored those that hit their target. They only hurt a little.

In the observation window, Kyle stood next to Ben Skywalker and his wife, the former Sith Vestara Khai. Ben winced when he saw Harry hit, while Vestara nodded her approval. "He handles pain well."

"He has a higher pain tolerance than most," Kyle said darkly.

"His Force-use is more instinctual than intentional," Ben noted. "He uses it to keep himself safe, but not offensively. See…what was that?"

Vestara also sucked in a breath as a shimmering blue field former around Harry that deflected five stunners and bought the boy time to slide the legs out from behind a pair of droids.

Kyle chuckled. "A native power. On his world he's part of a small sub-species who call themselves wizards. Bioscans show he has a separate organ in his brain, and energy-producing organelles in the marrow of his bones that charges internal power like a battery. His people use this power to temporarily affect matter on an atomic and even subatomic level—they can change living things into inanimate objects and vice versa. They can create objects out of thin air, even if only for a time. They can do self-powered teleportation. The power is remarkable, although it is of limited scale. When I took the boy in, his watchers attacked."

"Did you kill them?" Vestara asked.

"No, but I did have to use small words and my foot to make them understand why he would be staying with me. But before we left, we were attacked by the planet's Dark Siders, and I'm not ashamed to admit they came damned close to killing me. If not for Harry taking some out with my pistol, they might have."

Below, Harry demonstrated his first use of directed, intentional Force power. Cornered, he stomped down his foot and screamed to direct a blast of Force against one of the droids. The droid made an odd squealing noise as it blew backward, taking a pair of droids out behind it. Harry darted deftly into the opening. "Three minutes," Ben noted. "That's very good for a padawan his age."

"I think he could keep it up all day," Vestara said, a note of admiration in her voice for the boy from Earth.

"No, he's getting tired," Kyle said, being more familiar with his student. "See, there? His technique's getting sloppy." He leaned down and deactivated the program and said into the mic, "Well done, Harry. Go take a shower."

"Yessir!" Harry chirped, breathing hard and drenched in sweat. He left the room at a slow, tired walk.

"So, next is peer-testing," Ben said. "You say he comes from a pre-Space flight world. Can he handle sparring with a non-Human?"

"He'll handle it just fine."

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

Harry tried not to stare at the girl's tentacles. He knew it was probably rude—like when the older boys at home stared at the chests of the older girls, but he just couldn't help it. They were just so…neat.

The other padawan, who was likely three years or so older than he was, had the most interesting red-orange skin, with large eyes and what Harry thought at first was an odd, ornamental headdress which he soon learned was an actual part of her head. The soft, hollow horns were called montrals, while the odd tails that hung like human hair would were called lekku. Her eyes were framed by round white patches that made her look like an adorable panda bear, complete with sharp teeth.

Otherwise she could have passed for a human girl, especially with her wearing what amounted to a two-piece bathing suit with a little skirt as her training clothes.

For her part, Padawan Ansaki Taan noticed the strange boy's staring and tried to be polite while their respective masters coached them on their approaching duel. She of course had studied the exploits of the famous—and infamous—Kyle Katarn. Considered by many the only First Generation New Jedi to approach Luke Skywalker in power, Katarn was truly a legend in the Order. His was also one of the more tragic stories. For this human boy to be his padawan was a great honor.

But he would not stop staring at her!

Finally, with instructions from her master to go easy on the boy given his limited training and primitive background from a barbarous world, Ansaki took to the center of the training salle, facing her younger, smaller opponent. Still, before she could begin the training duel in earnest, she had to ask, "Why do you stare at me?"

The boy's cheeks colored almost to the color of a Togruta. "I'm sorry," he said. "I've just never seen an alien before."

"Who is alien?" she asked.

He looked confused a moment, before he suddenly smiled. "I guess I am, really. I've never seen a Togruta before. Your head tails are…"

"I've been told humans are bothered by lekku," she said with a dismissive snort.

"I was going to say neat," he finally said. "The way they move, like you almost but don't quite have control of them? Do they feel like fingers and toes?"

She blinked, having never considered that. "They just are. I've always had them so I can't tell you what they feel like, any more than I could describe to you a color you cannot see. I sense with them, like eyes, ears or nose."

"Cool," he said. She did not understand exactly what the word had to do with their conversation, but supposed it was simply a slang term native to his world.

"Are you ready to begin, then?"

"Sure."

"Very well."

She lit her green training blade while he lit his blue one and the two sparred for twenty-six seconds. On the twenty-seventh second, the padawan of Kyle Katarn was kneeling beside her with a concerned expression. "Are you okay? I'm really sorry; I didn't know that would…"

"I am fine," she said, trying hard to tamp down on her anger at being beaten by a smaller, younger, more inexperienced padawan. "That was a very good move."

"Oh, well, thank you." He stood and offered her a hand.

She considered refusing, but her master stood nearby with Master Katarn, her face a blank mask. If she refused, it would make her look childish in the face of defeat. With a sigh, she let the smaller boy help her too her feet, and the two resumed their positions.

"Harry," Master Katarn called to his padawan, "I would like you to work on defense for this next bout, please."

"Yessir!" the boy chirped brightly.

Ansaki tried to believe Katarn spoke thus for the benefit of his padawan, and not to give her a chance to actually attack. Still, her own master merely nodded, so when they began again she attacked hard.

The session was frustrating in many ways. For one, Harry was very small for a boy. He was difficult to corner. While she was physically much stronger than he was, he rarely attempted to meet force with force, instead he used his blade redirect her blows away rather than block them entirely. He was also astonishingly fast.

Finally, growing frustrated, she pushed him down with the Force. Harry's face showed his surprise as he fell, but what happened next confused her. Rather than showing alarm or frustration, he grinned maniacally; the expression was more frightening than if he were screaming at her in rage.

Suddenly, she felt invisible tendrils grasp her lekku and shove them up her nostrils, both at the same time. "Gahhh!" she shouted as the horrid feeling of her own mucus covered her very sensitive digits.

"Master Katarn!" Ansaki's master said. "That was most…inexcusable!"

Katarn looked at Master Shasuu, a human woman of forty years, with a cool glance. "How so?"

"He…he…"

"Improvised, using a non-lethal means to distract and overcome an enemy. You'll notice she introduce Force-use first, and he improvised an ingenious response."

Ansaki, meanwhile, was shaking as she wiped off her lekku. The tails were not just ornamental—they were highly developed sensory organs which each had a strand of cerebral nerve clusters running down their lengths that in effect acted as an extension of her very brain. To be treated in such a way was…disgusting and wrong. She felt completely violated and wanted nothing more than to…

"I'm sorry," Harry said softly. "I didn't know I wasn't supposed to do that."

She glared at his innocent, open expression, filled with sincere regret at her discomfort. His whole Force presence shouted out sorrow, which in itself was irritating given her desire to shout at him. He just looked… She sighed in defeat. The boy looked like an adorable little pet. "It is okay, Padawan. It is a social taboo to handle the lekku of Togruta or Twi'leks. They are very sensitive."

"Okay," he said. "I…they're very pretty, too. I guess I should have told you that too. I was looking at you because you're pretty. Sorry if I upset you."

In the corner, Master Shasuu was still talking heatedly to a calm, uncaring Kyle. "I hope he doesn't kick her head," Harry said.

Ansaki turned and stared. "Why would he do that?"

"When my Uncle Vernon yelled at him like that, Kyle kicked him in the head. He even said he was going to do it, but Uncle didn't believe him. But I'm glad he did—he's taken good care of me and taught me a lot, and I got to fly on a real spaceship and meet real, pretty alien girls and everything." He sighed at the sheer awesomeness of his last week.

Ansaki grinned. "Have you toured the place yet?"

"No, not yet."

"Come on, I'll show you around."

* * *

 **A Primer on the SW Galaxy in The Katarn Side**

I normally don't add long notes to stories, but I figure for those of you not familiar with the now defunct SW legends Expanded Universe, it might be helpful.

After the death of the emperor in Return of the Jedi, the Empire shattered into the hands of various warlords while the New Republic began to expand. There was a brief resurgence with a Chiss named Thrawn (the same character in Revenge of the Wizard) but for the most part the New Republic grew and the Empire shrank until eventually the lines stabilized and a reformed Empire opened a dialogue with the New Republic.

During this time, Luke married Mara Jade, a former force-trained Imperial assassin, and had a single child named Ben Skywalker. Han and Leia married and had three children—Jacen, Jaina (twins) and Anakin.

25 years after the events of the Battle of Yavin when the first Death Star was destroyed, the galaxy was invaded by a wildly-overwritten, poorly characterized group of villains called the Yuuzhan Vong. It generated over a dozen really, really bad books by often good authors who struggled with such a stupidly conceived enemy. (I'm not biased, really). In the end, since George Lucas decided to make prequel movies with a hero named Anakin, he ordered that all the books talking about Anakin Solo's destiny be ignored, and poor Anakin Solo died. Much angst was felt by all.

Things continued happening, until sadly Jacen for reasons went dark, started another civil war, murdered Ben Skywalker's mother Mara, and fathered a daughter named Allana. Jaina trained with Boba Fett (who of course survived Return of the Jedi because he's totally awesome) to fight her brother because of reasons, and she finally killed him.

A grieving Luke and Ben then went off adventuring, discovered a lost tribe of Sith and just like his dad, Ben fell for a semi-evil but totally hot bad girl.

And that's the end of the official timeline as far as I know (I didn't even read the last few books). Everything else in this story is speculation of events that are no longer canon anyway, because they fall between the last of the Legacy era books and the Star Wars: Legacy comics that feature Luke's descendant Cade Skywalker.

So, I speculate that Jaina Solo marries an Imperial named Jagged Fel who takes the throne of a reformed Empire. The Empire and the New Republic during the end of the Vong story line formed an Alliance called the Galactic Federation of Free Alliances (whose acronym I'm sure is completely coincidentally the same as a Galaxy Far Far Away), which is ruled by a triumvirate from the Republic, the Empire, and someone else I can't remember and am too lazy to look up. Jaina and Jagged adopt Jacen's girl Allana, and she marries a Fel to bolster her claim to the throne.

So, by the time this story rolls around, Allana Fel, formerly Allana Solo, Leia and Han's granddaughter and a great-granddaughter of Darth Vader, is the Empress Regent of the reformed Empire for her son. Luke's son is the Grandmaster of the Jedi order and his grandson is named Anakol (for reasons) and Kyle is the last living member of the original class of New Jedi trained by Luke Skywalker.

More detail will come in future chapters. Harry _will _ return to Earth, but he has some adventures in the SW verse first.

Thanks for reading.

[Revised because dang I shouldn't try writing fictional history lessons before I've had coffee.]


	4. Padawan Learner

A/N: Chap 3 review responses are in my forums like normally. I can't say I was entirely pleased with this chapter, but it was necessary.

* * *

 **Chapter Four: Padawan Learner**

The dark side will consume you, but Kyle will kill you.

Ansaki Taan, Harry learned, was thirteen years old. She began her Jedi training when she was identified by a Jedi on her home world of Shili when she was five. Rather than separate her from her mother (her father died when she was still an infant), her mother travelled to Ossus with her and worked with the Agriculture Corp in their ongoing attempts to re-terraform the planet. Once upon a time children were taken from their families for training by the Jedi, but now that was no longer the case. Jedi like Kyle did not even begin their training until they were already an adult, and so if parents did not want to be separated from their child, the Jedi just waited until the family was ready.

Still, there were many children in the Praxeum, and Harry got to meet a lot of them. There were a lot of humans, but there were also a lot of near humans and humanoids. He especially liked the Wookiees—they reminded him of giant teddy bears.

He and Ansaki explored the whole Praxeum, even going out into the hot, arid surface to explore the miles-long greenhouses where Ansaki's mother worked to produce natural, breathable atmosphere and food for the Jedi. Her mother, a stunning woman with head tails that hung down her back and shoulders to her waist, explained that green houses like this one were all over the planet, while drones flew high in the stratosphere releasing ozone.

"Still, it goes slowly," Alalai Taan said. "The Yuuzhan Vong could remake a world in weeks. I sometimes wonder what they could do if we invited them to come help."

"Mother!" Ansaki said, aghast.

Harry knew enough from Kyle about the Vong to understand Ansaki's reaction. The extra-galactic invaders came perilously close to destroying the whole galaxy and wiped out whole species numbering in the tens of trillions.

Eventually, Ansaki showed Harry her favorite meditation place—a hard-to-reach alcove high above the gardens that lined the inside of the East Wing of the Praxeum. It was not really even an official spot. Instead, they had to climb an energy conduit to a support beam and cross the beam over a hundred foot expanse until they settled into. The alcove even had cushioned mats and a small cooler where she stored snacks.

Harry realized that this was a special place for her. As they sat on the edge of a hundred foot drop with their legs dangling, the two talked. The acoustics of the room were such that their voices never made it down to the floor below. She told him about her training, and how she did not really like Master Shasuu very much, but that none of the other masters could take another padawan. The woman was very strict, almost to the point of idiocy, and did not let Ansaki do anything on her own.

"I see the other padawans swimming, or playing with each other all the time, but I can never go with them. After my lessons I must practice all the time, or meditate. Never play," she said mournfully.

"Kyle lets me play on Sundays," Harry said. "But before he came, I did not get to play or have fun either."

It seemed a shock to Harry that, on the other side of the galaxy, he found a kindred spirit. For the first time in his life, the ten-year-old boy found himself laying his soul bare before another person as he talked about how horrible his childhood was; how the way the Dursleys talked to him was a thousand times worse than the beatings and abuse.

By the end, Ansaki was holding his hand, and that singular act of kindness was more than Harry had ever known from a peer.

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

That night, when Ansaki reached the room she shared with Master Shansuu, she came to a stop when she saw Master Katarn standing in front of the door. "Master," she said with a bow.

"Call me Kyle," he said. His voice sounded old and rough, just like he looked. Kyle Katarn was a legend to inspire both awe and fear—what the man had been through, and more importantly what he had done, was amazing. The fact that he still lived, while all the others of his generation of Jedi had died—even Luke Skywalker—spoke of the man's true strength. "Walk with me."

Like with his name, the phrase was not a request, simply a statement of how things would be, and she obeyed instinctively as the two walked through the dimly lit halls of the dormitories. "You questioned yourself after your duels today," he said.

Ansaki shrugged. "I was older, stronger and more experienced, but he still won."

"Do you think that makes Harry a better Jedi?"

"I'm not sure, Ma…Kyle."

Kyle scratched absently at his scraggly beard. "My padawan was born under a prophecy that said he's going to face the dark lord that murdered his parents, and he's either going to kill that dark lord, or die at the man's hands. Not Sith, but their native power is strong enough that I think even Luke would have been hard pressed to deal with him. I've encountered their Dark Siders myself and they nearly beat me. So I am training Harry to be a warrior knight first and foremost."

"I see."

"What do you know of the old Order?"

"We studied it extensively, Kyle."

"So you know of Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi?"

"Yes."

"Who was the greater warrior?"

"Well, I would have to say Anakin. But…oh, I see. Anakin was the better warrior, but Obi-Wan was the greater Jedi."

Kyle nodded, though if he smiled she could not tell. "Precisely. You were not a match for Harry in the salle because his life will depend on his fighting skills and so I have pushed his native talent to fighting beyond anything else. But Ansaki, how you guided and comforted him after your duels tells me that you will be a very, very good Jedi someday."

The young Togruta could not help but feel a happy flush of pride at the great man's praise.

"And how your master responded tells me that she is an idiot," Kyle continued.

The happy flush faded a little as she realized where he was leading her. The door opened, and Grand Master Ben Skywalker stepped out and smiled at her. "Padawan Taan, Master Shansuu and I had a discussion today about you. She has been unhappy here for some time for her own, personal reasons and wished to return to the field. I was wondering if you would consider joining me as my padawan instead."

Ansaki tried to hide her trembling. "That would be a great honor, Master Skywalker."

Ben chuckled. "You say that now. Please gather your things—you'll stay with us in a guest room for now. Master Shansuu has already left for her new assignment."

"Thank you, Masters!" She turned and virtually skipped up the hall.

Ben looked at Kyle before shaking his head. "Did you really have to kick Shansuu in the head, Kyle? Really?"

"Hey, it got my point across."

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

Harry's first two years with Kyle Katarn at Knott-End-On-Sea were memorable to say the least. While Kyle was a hard man, he was never cruel. On rare occasions, like that last birthday on Earth, he could be astoundingly generous and kind. However, Harry was still deeply, profoundly lonely. Being schooled exclusively by Kyle meant he did not have friends to play with.

Being trained in mystical arts from another world meant that when he was around other kids, he didn't have anything to talk about—nothing in common at all. Compounding the issue was the nature of his upbringing. Harry was taught as a young child that everyone hated him. Kyle went a long way in fixing that, but instead of teaching Harry that the whole world despised him; the Jedi taught that emotion should be controlled and constrained.

Unlike the old Order, the New Jedi Order did not forbid romantic entanglements nor emotion. In fact, given the high incidence of multigenerational Jedi in the New Order, most acknowledged that not having Jedi marry and breed was a bad thing, reducing and weakening the number of Jedi as a whole. However, the New Jedi also taught that before one could know love, one had to learn to control their own emotions, and those were the lessons Kyle concentrated on.

So, for those two years, even when Harry was around his peers, he appeared to other kids as aloof or distant. He wasn't, at least not in his mind, but that is how he appeared to others.

As the weeks rolled into months on Ossus, however, Harry found himself surrounded by his true peers for the very first time. These were padawans like himself with similar training and philosophies. Most were as smart or smarter than he was, with years more training and schooling. His first class with the padawans was an amazing, even joyful experience not because of the subject matter, but because he was back in a class with kids who did not hate him, and some who even looked up to him because of who his master was!

His best friend, though, remained Ansaki Taan. Though she was older, they still found themselves in many classes together, and because of her master's many responsibilities to the Order, quite often she found herself training with Harry for the day. She told him that Ben's wife was often away, for months at a time, in the Empire.

He learned as much talking politics with her as he did from his reading, for the galaxy's politics in the past century were tumultuous as best. The galaxy was currently at relative peace, and had been for the past thirty years. The two main galactic governments were the Galactic Federation of Free Alliances, known more informally as the Alliance, and the Imperial Remnant—the last vestiges of the original Empire created by Palpatine from the ashes of the Old Republic.

The Imperial Remnant was a remnant no longer, but a healthy and growing government adding new worlds every year not through subjugation, but through diplomacy. At its head was Allana Solo Fel, the daughter of the fallen Jedi Jacen Solo and Tenel Ka Chume'Ta Djo, Queen Mother of the Hapes Consortium. Being a grandchild of Princess Leia Organa Solo of Alderaan and the great granddaughter of Darth Vader and Queen Amidala of Naboo, while also being the direct offspring of the Hapes Queen made her royal to begin with, and leant a stamp of credibility to her rule the Empire and its neighbors respected.

When the legendary Han and Leia Solo died, Allana's aunt Jaina and her husband, Emperor Jagged Fel, formally adopted her into the Fel Dynasty. To further ensure her role in the succession, given their own failure to procure an heir, Jaina and Jagged Fel encouraged her to marry Jagged's younger brother.

Now, Allana's only son Anakin Solo Fel was a young Emperor-to-be, while his mother as Regent engineered the greatest period of growth and prosperity the Imperial Remnant had ever seen. Harry found himself studying holoimages of the Jedi-trained regent closely—she was a startlingly beautiful woman with loosely curled red hair and freckles that made her seem friendly despite her overwhelming authority.

"When I look at her, I sometimes wish I had hair like a human," Ansaki admitted one day after classes and training were over. The two of them lounged in her secret place while studying flimsiplasts for a test the next day.

Harry looked up at her lekku and montrails, and then shook his head. "I think you're pretty just the way you are," he assured her.

He did not understand what it meant when the tips of her lekku darkened to a light violet color, but she smiled brilliantly at him and he knew at least he did not upset her. "Harry, you're my friend, right?"

Harry looked back at her and nodded, wondering where she was going. "I am. The past year here has been great because of you."

She smiled again, and once more her lekku tinted darkly. "I'm…I'm ready to build my own saber. Most are around my age when they do. But, well…there's a ritual we go through. At least, since we returned to Ossus. We're to travel to the ruins of the great Jedi Library, where Master Skywalker keeps all the available crystals, and kilns if we choose to make a synth crystal."

"That doesn't sound too bad," Harry said.

"We travel on foot. It's a forty day journey, and we are only allowed to take ten days of water. We must rely on the Force to guide us and provide for us. Not everyone makes it. One of the older padawans has done the test three times and he still has not passed."

Harry took her hand and smiled. "You'll pass on your first try, I know you will. The Force is with you."

"I'm not as good a fighter as you."

"But you always win the fleeing and evade games," Harry pointed out. "Your pre-cog is so good even Master Kyle was impressed, and I overheard Master Skywalker saying that you have an uncommon connection to the Force. That's why I know you'll do well."

She smiled at him, before leaning over and kissing his cheek. "Thank you for saying that, Harry. I just…I just want you to promise to be my friend, even if I fail."

Harry stared at her, genuinely confused. "Why would your success or failure have anything to do with my being your friend? I'm your friend because I like you, and you're super nice to me."

She beamed and kissed his cheek once more, before the two settled back and enjoyed a holovid with the last of their free time.

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

Two days after Ansaki's fourteenth birthday, she walked out into the blasted deserts of Ossus with food and water rations for ten days. Harry threw himself into his studies in a desperate attempt not to think of her alone out there, burning under the bright sun.

He ran the obstacle course with the other padawans twice a day—harnessing the Force to jump impossible heights or to speed his steps. He practiced his telekinesis, which even Master Skywalker admitted was astounding for a padawan his age, as well as some of the more esoteric skills of the Jedi.

Harry showed an uncommon skill with Force absorption, a general ability under the title of _Tutaminis_. When properly attuned with the Force, Harry could absorb the stun bolts from the practice drones to the point that Harry could bat away stun bolts with his bare hands.

During Ansaki's thirtieth day in the desert, Harry was practicing against battle droids while Kyle, Ben and another Jedi master, a Kel-Dor named Daan Delsani, watched. Delsani made a deep sound of surprise when Harry used his saber against one droid while batting away and absorbing stun blasts from two others.

"Has the boy tried that skill against a live blaster?" the Kel-Dor asked.

"Not yet," Kyle said. "He's only twelve, I didn't want to risk it."

"I think he could do it," the Kel-Dor said.

"I agree," Ben said.

Kyle studied his apprentice, before he shrugged, pulled his trusty Brynar pistol and fired off a single shot from the observation lounge. Harry caught the bolt in his hand without pause and continued his training exercise, as if completely unaware of where it came from. "I'll be damned," the old Jedi said. "Boy's better than even I thought."

"How is he at _Curato salva?_ " Delsani asked.

"Better than me, and the Force has kept me alive for over a century," Kyle said.

"It doesn't always work," Ben said sadly.

Kyle smiled and put a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Ben, you know Luke loved you, but he always wanted to be with Mara. He didn't die because he didn't care, but because he was ready to rejoin her in the Force."

To the Kel-Dor, Kyle said, "Harry has yet to master the three components of Control, but he has gained a passable knowledge and skill with them. He has learned how to enter a healing trance, his energy absorption is phenomenal, and he can sink into the Force so deeply even I have difficulty finding him. However, I suspect much of this may be native talent. His people have their own powers with Force energy unlike anything I've ever seen. Just wait until you see him teleport."

Both Jedi masters stared at him as if he were daft. "Teleport?" Ben said.

"Wizards on his world pop round as if it is nothing. Before we left, eleven dark siders teleported directly into our home without tripping any of the external security systems. We barely escaped alive, and it was that which convinced me he was in too much danger there. So we came here so I could train him in the safety of the Academy."

"Do you think he can do those things now, after having been trained as a Jedi?"

"Let's find out," Kyle said. He touched the salle control panel. "Program off."

The droids came to a standstill. Harry sank down into a kneeling position to refresh his muscles with the Force, doing so with the ease of a student much more advanced than his years. "Harry," Kyle said. "Do you remember the dark siders who attacked us last year?"

"Yes Kyle," Harry called back up.

"Do you remember how they arrived?"

"They teleported, like Dumbledore did."

"Do you think you could do that?"

Harry blinked in surprise. "I don't know," he admitted. "If it is something common to my people, then I suppose I should be able to. Do you want me to try, Kyle?"

"If you feel you can, but only if."

Harry nodded and closed his eyes in concentration.

"So tell me more of these natives," Delsani said. "Do they…Force preserve us!"

Harry appeared in the middle of the observation balcony with a loud thunderclap of displaced air. Almost immediately he sagged further to the floor, drenched in sweat. Kyle leaned down to assist. "Are you alright?"

"That was painful," Harry gasped. "I think…I don't think I was ready for that, Kyle. My body felt wrong doing it."

"Then we won't do it again," Kyle said firmly. "However, it's good to know the option is available to you if you ever need it."

He helped the shaking boy to his feet, only to catch him when he collapsed again. "Sorry, Master," he muttered.

"It's okay, Harry. I should not have pushed you so hard. Come on, let's get you back to our rooms."

"Master Skywalker, have we heard from Ansaki?"

"The Force tells me she is doing well, Harry," Ben assured the young man.

Harry smiled before his eyes rolled up into his head and he passed out.

Ansaki did eventually return, thinner than he'd ever seen her and a dark, burnt orange color from the sun. Her lips were terribly chapped, as were the tips of her lekku and montrals, but she had succeeded and obtained a green adagan crystal for her new lightsaber.

Most importantly, though, she allowed Harry to help her apply the bacta cream to her lekku. Harry was only twelve, but he knew that such acceptance was a rare and wonderful thing from a Togruta to let anyone touch their lekku. He still did not understand the darkening color at the tips as he gently applied the bacta, only that doing so meant that he really was her friend.


	5. Crossing the Desert

A/N: Chap 4 review responses are in my forums like normal.

* * *

 **Chapter Five: Crossing The Desert**

The ability to destroy a planet is insignificant next to the power of Kyle Katarn.

Two weeks after the completion of her lightsaber, in which time she recovered sufficiently to be deemed ready, Ansaki went on her first mission with Master Skywalker to broker a renewal of the Zanoma Sekot Accords between the Galactic Alliance and the Youzhan Vong remnant on the living planet. It was a politically sensitive mission that required the Grand Master of the Jedi, and promised to take several weeks if not months of negotiations since representatives of the Empire would be there as well.

Harry found himself profoundly depressed by Ansaki's absence, which even to him seemed strange since she was gone for forty days during her trial. Of course, the difference now was that during her trials she was still on the planet, and only a quick trip by speeder if necessary. Now she was off planet on an official mission, and he wasn't sure when he would see her again.

Still, he continued his studies and exercises as best he could, always pushing himself as hard as he could because Kyle demanded nothing less. A month after Ansaki's departure, however, a new padawan arrived at the Academy for training. Or, to be more precise, an old padawan returned.

Harry's first impression of Anakol Skywalker was that he was a bully. At thirteen, Anakol was not particularly tall, but he was strong both physically and in the Force, and had a chiseled handsomeness that made the female padawans look longingly at him. The fact that he was the son of the current grand master and grandson of the founder of the New Jedi Order made him royalty in the eyes of the other students.

And while out of the presence of his master, Jedi Master Bandy Geffen, he appeared to expect to be treated as Jedi royalty.

He did not understand at all, upon meeting Harry the first time, why Harry did not immediately bow to his greater skills in the Force. "Do you know who I am?" Anakol demanded when Harry introduced himself politely, but without the obsequiousness he'd see in the other students.

"You're a padawan like me," Harry said.

Anakol snorted. "Like you? I don't think so. I'm a fourth-generation Jedi; my grandfather founded the New Order. From what I've heard of you, your people haven't even discovered hyperspace yet."

Harry felt his cheeks warm, but knew that if he gave into anger his punishment from Kyle would be worse than anything this padawan could dish out. "So you're a stronger Jedi than, say, Nomi Sunrider? Or Mace Windu?"

Anakol blinked in surprise. "I didn't say that."

"You're acting like you are," Harry pointed out. "The feats and accomplishments of your ancestors are something to be proud of, I suppose, but the feats of others don't make _you_ a better person."

Anakol jutted out his chin. "That goes both ways, Potter. Having Kyle Katarn as a master doesn't make you better either."

"I know," Harry said.

"Duel!" one of the older padawans said. "That'll settle it."

Harry blinked at the older boy. "I wasn't aware anything was unsettled."

"You're just scared!" Anakol said.

"You're right," Harry said. "If I duel without Kyle's permission, I'll be sorry."

Just then, as if summoned by his name, Kyle Katarn stepped into the classroom. It was supposed to be a lecture about Luke Skywalker's early feats and how he essentially trained himself. However, the old Jedi knew something was up the moment he stepped in and saw his padawan and Anakol facing each other.

"Oh, good," he said to the now silent room. "I was hoping you two could get this taken care of early."

"I'm sorry, Master Katarn," Anakol said with perfect decorum, "I don't understand what you mean."

Kyle snorted and walked toward them. "Your father and Bandy have told me about you, boy. You have the potential to be everything your father and grandfather would want. Problem is, you already know it. While Harry here has dueled and defeated every padawan in this room but you. You're the two biggest rancors in the academy, and it was only a matter of time before you butted heads. This way, we can get it done with early. Let's go find Bandy and get a salle."

"Really?" Harry said. "Just like that?"

"Why not?" Kyle said.

None of the padawans could even think of sitting in class with the promise of a duel in the air. Master Geffen proved to be a friendly, older man with thinning gray hair and laugh wrinkles around his eyes. He spoke respectfully to Kyle, but seemed eager as well for Harry and Anakol to duel.

With half the Academy watching from the many balconies around the room, the two padawans squared off. Almost immediately Anakol saw that Harry was still using an Academy training saber and sneered. "You haven't even built your own, yet?" he said. "This should be quick."

Harry said nothing and braced himself for the duel. Even Ansaki told him that Anakol was the best dueler in the academy, and had received training almost since infancy from both his father, and his Sith-trained mother.

His first onslaught confirmed every rumor—he really was good. He charged forward with a powerful Force-push to knock Harry out of position before swinging wide. His saber was on its training-setting, but it still would have been a painful blow to the head had it connected. Fortunately, Harry absorbed the Force push and used the energy to strength his arms.

He needed it; Anakol was strong. Even worse, he was fast. Because Harry braced himself for the first blow, he was not in position to move fast enough when Anakol followed up with a side-kick to his stomach.

Rather than resist the blow, Harry flowed with it, letting it push him back to separate from the attack and regain his feet. However, Anakol knew the technique from his own training and pushed on to deny Harry a chance to regain his equilibrium.

The other padawan's scintillating blue sword came right toward Harry's head, and even with the Force he was so out of position he could not block it with his sword.

So he didn't even try. Sinking even further into the Force, Harry reached up with his bare hand and blocked the blow, absorbing the energy of both the blow and the blade itself, and while Anakol's eyes widened in surprise Harry Force-pushed with his other hand to send the taller, stronger boy stumbling back.

Knowing he had few windows with his opponent, Harry switched from defense to offence in the blink of an eye, just as he switched from Form I to Form II. Anakol responded with the Makashi Riposte, and they quickly broke to take another assessment of each other.

"Not bad," Anakol admitted with a deep breath. Harry could virtually feel the other boy calling the Force to himself.

Rather than respond, Harry resumed a fighting stand, once more falling into a Form I position. Anakol grinned and attacked once more, switching to the aggressive Form V famously preferred by many Skywalkers over the generations.

Harry raised his saber to block the powerful over-hand blow, only to deactivate his blade at the last second, swirl around in a sudden shift to a Form IX Trakata and glanced his blade off Anakol's back, to the shock of everyone in the room.

"First point of three to Potter," Kyle announced.

Anakol flushed angrily, and then suddenly exploded into a Form VII Vaapad strike, aggressively slashing at Harry and forcing him back against the wall. Rather than allow himself to be caught, Harry somersaulted over his opponent, which was exactly what Anakol was hoping for. The red-headed padwan reached up and blasted Harry with a powerful Force-push that sent the smaller boy flying uncontrolled through the air. Anakol rushed after him on the ground, and scored a point as Harry slammed into the padding with a painful swipe to the ribs.

"Point to Skywalker," Master Geffin said. "Next point takes match."

Anakol did not let up after that, realizing perhaps that he could not afford to play with Harry. Harry for his part fought with everything he had. The two Force-pushed or pulled each other relentlessly. They leapt, somersaulted, flipped or dove like acrobats while constantly slashing at each other in a variety of forms, some of which they knew better than others. Most lightsaber duels lasted only minutes, given the destructive nature of the blades.

The two padawans were going on twenty five minutes when at last Anakol landed a kick to Harry's temple that broke his defense enough to score the third and winning point of the duel. When the duel finished, Harry sank down into a meditating pose to replenish himself, while Anakol walked over to a few other padawans to share in their congratulations.

Finally, though, the red-head walked back to Harry and sank down opposite him. "You fought well," he said with an easy smile. "I've been up against padawans twice my age who didn't fight as well as you."

"Thank you. You fought very well also."

"That was a neat trick with deactivating the blade. Trakata, right?"

Harry nodded. "Master Kyle told me it came in handy when facing a stronger opponent who was sure of an easy victory."

Rather than be upset, Anakol actually blushed and ducked his head. "I suppose I was expecting an easy victory. It's easy to become arrogant, I suppose. Dad's warned me about it before, though mother tells me it's only right."

"I suppose it depends on if you want to be a Jedi, or a Sith," Harry said.

Anakol blinked, and then laughed. "That's exactly what Master Geffen says!" He stood up easily, and then offered a hand to Harry, who accepted the help up. "Anakol Skywalker, nice to meet you."

"Harry Potter, nice to meet you as well."

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

Harry was not expecting to be friends with Anakol, but after their duel, it became almost inevitable. After all, they were almost of an age, and though Anakol had already gone through his first test and made his blade, he was actually quite young to do so. An aspect of his parentage, he admitted. What missions he undertook with Master Geffen were generally low-risk because of the simple reality that he was the Grandmaster's weakness.

Academically, he was not that far ahead of Harry, and in some areas such as history, lagged behind due to a lack of interest. But in the Force, Harry had to admit Anakol truly was more powerful than he was. Rather than mind, he accepted the older boy's help in meditating and dueling, augmenting what Master Kyle was already reaching him.

But what truly sealed their friendship was the day that Anakol introduced Harry to the art of swoop racing.

Given his age and friendship with Ansaki, Harry knew little about the small but active Ossus racing circuit, which was comprised almost entirely of older padawans. Anakol, Harry and a group of Anakol's friends walked to the back of the Academy structure, past the fountains and garden levels, to a narrow ravine between the mountains that protected the back of the ziggurat itself.

On a platform of permacrete were a dozen swoops—modified, overpowered speeder bikes with half the control and five times the power. In the middle of the bikes stood the resident Wookiee padawan, Graagi. Though the Wookiee was twenty-five years old, by the standards of his people he was still considered a youngling and served as a padawan to another Wookiee Jedi master.

"Graagi!" Anakol called out. "Are they ready?"

The Wookiee growled out an affirmative and pointed to a device that looked like Dudley's bicycle strapped to the engines of a RAF _Tornado_.

Harry stared at the swoop in fascination. "I've been here for two years now—why haven't I seen this?"

"Because you hung out with Miss 'I-Can't-Do-Anything-Fun' Ansaki Taan," a new voice answered. Harry turned to see another padawan—a Zabrak this time—fiddling with another swoop. He knew her as Danda Barris, an older padawan back from a mission with her master. Rather than the traditional robes, she wore a tight, form-fitting bodice that left her pale navel exposed, and a pair of black leather riding pants that hugged her tight enough to make Harry blush. "We all figured Master Katarn didn't let you have fun either," she finished.

"I just didn't know about it," Harry said. "And Ansaki is my friend. It's not her fault her first master was so mean."

"Yeah, Shonsu was a krayt dragon, that one," Anakol said with a shake of his head. "If any master could make a padwan feel bad, it was her. I heard that Master Katarn kicked her in the head."

Harry shrugged. "I think it's how he communicates."

The other padawans laughed. "So, you want to give one a try?" Anakol said.

"Kol, he's not been on one before," Danda warned.

"He lasted twenty five minutes in a duel with me and scored first point," Anakol pointed out. "If the Force isn't with him, it isn't with anyone. Besides, just put him on the old Bespin swoop. It's not as fast."

"Come on, then, Noob," Danda said. She led him to the end of the swoops, while Anakol climbed onto the bike Graagi had been working on.

Harry listened attentively as the very pretty girl with the crown of horns sprouting from her head and the very tight clothing showed him how to operate the basic swoop bike. "Go slow at first," she finally warned. "These things are crazy-fast and they rely as much on your own body for control as any flaps."

"Got it," Harry said. He grinned with a surge of excitement as he climbed aboard and thumbed on the repulsors. The bike rose up off the permacrete with a hum that sent chills up and down his spine. With a last grin at Danda, he gripped the handlebars, leaned forward, and floored it.

Danda stood with a puzzled look as Harry shot off the platform right after Anakol and Graage, flying as if he'd been operating a swoop bike for years. She almost jumped when a grizzle old voice said, "About time."

She turned and said, "Master Katarn! I didn't sense you."

He raised a brow, and Danda realized how ridiculous that statement was. "How may I serve, master?" she said quickly to cover herself.

"By doing what you're doing," Kyle said. He walked past her and stood on the edge of the platform, arms crossed and eyes distant, as his padawan raced through the mountain ravine, now behind Anakol. "Go, Harry. Fly fast and hard."

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

Ansaki did not return that year at all; the negotiations were interrupted by an assassination attempt on Ben Skywalker himself. Rather than return to the safety of the Academy, the Grand Master and his padawan travelled into Imperial Space with the Empress Regent's blessing to hunt down the failed assassin. The operation was time-consuming at the very least.

Harry found himself thinking about her less and less. Her absence at first was painful, but regardless of how dearly he liked her, he was still a twelve-year-old boy, and he simply could not dwell on her absence for very long, most especially not with Anakol as a friend.

His fellow Padawan was always moving; always smiling. Harry began to realize that what he saw earlier as arrogance on Skywalker's part and fawning on the student's part was in actuality just a deep friendship. Everyone at the Academy liked Anakol (Kol to his friends), and he in turn liked them. He was impossible to stay angry with, no matter how outrageous his behavior was. Whether he used telekinesis to launch water balloons at his fellow padawans, or when he dyed his master's robes pink, it was just difficult not to be affected by his happy, infectious humor.

And stang, swoop racing was awesome!

Soon, another year had passed, and he rarely even thought about Ansaki, other than to check the news dispatches to make sure she and her master were well. They had stayed in the Empire as guests of the Regent to coordinate training between the Imperial Knights and the Jedi, ensuring jurisdictions and functions were honored among both groups.

It was just after Harry's thirteenth birthday when he realized, with a start, that he was done with his lightsaber except for the focusing crystal. That night, while doing their evening meditations, he considering telling Kyle, but not surprisingly his master already knew. "It's time for you to take your first trial."

Harry took a deep, shuddering breath, but nodded. "Yes, Kyle."

"Then you leave tomorrow," the grizzled old Jedi said. "Sleep well tonight. It is a challenging trial."

"Yes, Kyle."

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

Kyle walked with Harry early the next morning to the east wing of the Academy. They emerged in the East Gardens, which were shielded only by a screen dome to shelter the plants from the worst of the sun, but was otherwise open to the arid air. Beyond them ran the junction of plains and mountains.

Kyle rested a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Remember your survival training, but most importantly trust in the Force. This is as much a test of faith as it is a test of skill. Only by surrendering completely to the will of the Force can you succeed."

"Yes, Kyle."

"Your pack has ten days' worth of food and water. You will have to find more to survive."

"Yes, Kyle."

"Most important, though, is that you not doubt. You can do this, Harry. You _will_ do this. Of all my padawans, you I think most highly of. I am proud of you."

Harry restrained an urge to hug the old man; Kyle despised open displays of affection. Instead, Harry turned to face his master and bowed deeply from the waist. "Thank you, Master."

"You'd better go, then," Kyle said thickly.

Harry nodded, stepped from the permacrete of the Academy to the hard, packed soil of the Ossus surface, and started walking.

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

Four thousand years ago, during the height of the Great Sith War, the Sith Sorceress Aleema Keto, using means that not even Luke Skywalker ever fully discovered, somehow caused a cluster of ten stars called the Cron Cluster to explode in a supernova of unimaginable power. The resulting explosion almost destroyed the whole sector.

Many Jedi were able to evacuate Ossus, but not all. The radiation shockwave of the vast supernova ripped away most of the planet's atmosphere, and the whole of its biosphere, leaving it a desolate, dry skeleton of a world.

Harry walked steadily during that first day, pulling off his Jedi cloak to fashion a shaded headpiece like a turban to keep off the worst of the sun. Still, rather than rest that first night, he sank himself into the Force and continued walking on through the night. He did not stop until an hour after the sun rose, when the heat first started to become oppressive. He stopped in a small valley at the foot of the mountains and used the Force to position rocks to hold his cloak in such a way as to create a shade for himself.

He slept profoundly despite the heat of the day after drinking his precious water and eating just enough to maintain his energy.

That was the schedule he kept—waking in the early evening before the sun set and walking through the night until morning. He drank only enough to keep himself from becoming sick from dehydration, and ate lightly to stretch his food stores. After the second day, he sank so deeply into the Force to ease the pain from the blisters on his feet and the ache in his muscles, it felt almost as if he were flying. He walked under the bluish light of Ossus' twin moons, one of which dominated the sky so brightly Harry could see as plainly as if it were day.

By the tenth day, he started to have visions. He could not tell if they were genuine Force visions or just his imagination, since one of them was a vision of Ansaki naked. He was fairly certain that that was just his teenage imagination, since he knew that as much as he liked her, she was already sixteen and unlikely to even remember him when she returned.

Some of his visions, though, he could not make sense of at all. He had a vision of a girl with large teeth and untamed bushels of auburn hair screaming in front of a monster with green skin and a large club. That particular vision came so strongly he actually shouted at her to run. As if she could hear him, she did just that, only to have the monster club her in the back.

Harry winced for her as she fell, and stayed with her in his vision while she recovered. He was astounded to see the old wizard Dumbledore in the same vision, speaking to someone in front of the girl. He wondered if this was happening on Earth, or if it had already happened.

Another dark, horrible vision had a little girl with red hair like the Empress's kneeling down in a dark, abandoned cavern as a shadow of Dark Side energy sucked out her very soul. Harry wept openly when the girl fell lifelessly to the cavern, while the shadow smiled down at her in triumph. Again, the old wizard came and they fought, demon and wizard, shadow and light, in a duel that made Harry wonder if the Jedi really were as powerful as they thought. Could Kyle have survived such a duel?

Dumbledore won the duel, but when the fighting was over the old wizard fell to his knees beside the little girl and openly wept. Harry realized that for all Kyle's mistrust of Dumbledore when he was younger, the wizard at least truly was of the light to weep so at a lost, innocent victim. Harry wept right alongside him.

Another vision was of a tall, beautiful woman with long dark hair cloaked in a nimbus of silver, kneeling in a primeval forest with a beautifully wrought silver crown in one hand, while the other clutched a knife protruding from her stomach. _Mother, forgive me_ , she whispered.

Harry hardly noticed when he ran out of water on the eleventh day. He drifted so thoroughly with the Force he felt hardly anything at all, save the currents of energy pushing at him like an invisible wind, taking him where it willed. It came as a surprise when the currents eased enough for him to blink into full awareness of his hurts, his thirst, and the smell of moisture in the air. He discovered he had climbed into the foothills until he came to a formation of red stone, and the smell was coming from a natural cistern of spring water.

There, he discovered a small field of tubers growing in the shallow, wet sand around the spring. Harry tried one—it did not taste good, per say, but from his training he could detect carbohydrates, fiber, vitamins and minerals in the plant. He filled his canteens and rested at the spring for one whole day and night, using the Force to heal himself as much as he could, while eating only tubers. He gathered more, but made sure to leave at least half there so that others that came after him would have them available as well. He threw the inedible parts back as well to help feed future growths.

Within hours of that next night, he once more sank into the Force so deeply he moved as if in a fugue state, completely surrendering to the will of the Force. Almost immediately he had another vision—this one of himself standing before a shadow with glowing red eyes like out of his earliest nightmares. In the center of the shadow, he saw a lightning bolt, identical to his scar, and a sibilant voice whispering, " _With this you are my equal. With this you are my opposite. I am within you; and you are within me_."

With the vision came pain in his scar itself, pain so unexpected and alien that it actually pulled him out of the Force for a brief moment. It took several moments of meditation and breathing to recover himself so that he could continue.

He could not say how many days it was when he realized a Force Ghost walked beside him. "Good day, Master Jedi," he wheezed out.

"Good day, Padawan," the Force Ghost said. His voice sounded hollow and distant. In the pale blue moonlight, the figure glowed gently with ethereal light.

"Am I getting close, do you think?"

"I don't know," the ghost said. "It is difficult to judge distance from my perspective. However, I believe you will complete your task. You've done very well so far, especially given how little training you've received.'

"Thank you, Master."

Harry trudged on tiredly as the ghost floated beside him. "You look familiar, but your name escapes me.'

"You can call me Luke, if you wish."

"Luke? Oh, right. Kol's grandfather. You're famous."

The ghost of Luke Skywalker smiled at him. "You are too, among your own kind. You've had visions of your home, yes?"

Thinking of the red-headed girl, Harry nodded sadly. "I wonder if things would be better if I were there, where I belong."

"You belong wherever you are, Harry. Surely Kyle taught you that much."

Harry bowed his head, stumbled, and regained his footing. "Yes, sir."

Luke laughed; the sound was like wind blowing through rock formations. "Destiny is a hard and fickle thing, Harry. This girl you saw, she might have survived if you were there, or more may have died. It is impossible to say what effect you would have, for your presence would affect so many things no one mind could grasp them. But it is impossible to say for sure it would have been better. Surely, it is better to return when you are ready to fulfill your destiny, than before then."

"Were you ready, Master Skywalker, when your destiny called?"

"I did not think so, Harry, and yet fate and the Force decided otherwise, and they were right. Somehow, I succeeded in my fight and helped free the Galaxy from true evil. I am grateful I had the opportunity to help so many, even though I also deeply regret the loss of so many friends in the process. One of my very best friends, Biggs Darklighter, died in the very battle that began my path in the Force."

Harry accepted that with a nod of his head. He actually felt quite light-headed, and so took a sip of his once-again dwindling water. "I think that girl in the vision was important, Master. I think …I think in another world we would have been meant for each other. The Force is telling me that her loss was terrible for more reasons than just the loss of innocence."

"One must listen to the Force," Luke agreed solemnly. "She was a part of the destiny you had before. But just as destiny can shift, so too can one's future. You might have been happy with this girl, but at the same time, you would also suffer terribly. And so I sent you Kyle, my oldest, last living friend, and as Kyle always does, he changed you destiny with a kick to someone's head. And yet, as much as he has done for you, my young friend, you have done the same for him. In training you—his last, greatest padawan—Kyle has at last found peace with himself. This is a gift only you could give him, and it is why the Force led you to be together."

Harry giggled drunkenly from exhaustion, stumbled and then fell, his knees no longer strong enough to carry him. "He kicked my Uncle in the head. It was awesome."

"Kyle is awesome," Luke agreed with a fond smile, "and because of that, he has changed your destiny, and your life. What was to be is no longer, and what could never have been is not only possible, but probable. You will be a great Jedi Knight, Harry Potter. But more than that, you will be a great leader. Remember that, in the days to come."

"I will, Master." The Force Ghost was gone, though. Harry blinked around tiredly, and realized in a moment of clarity that he had been walking for forty days and forty nights. His exhaustion was more than bone-deep, it was down to his very soul, and he wasn't sure he could get up again.

"You've done well, Harry." Harry, expecting another Force ghost, looked up in surprise to see Kyle standing in front of him on the stones. Only then was Harry able to focus on the ancient, eons-old stepped-pyramid rising out from the rocks behind the old Jedi. "You've made it."

"I made it?" Harry asked stupidly.

Kyle smiled, bent down, and somehow scooped Harry into his arms as if he weighed nothing. "You made it. You've passed your first trial, Harry. Now, let's go find your crystal."

* * *

.

.

Thanks for reading.


	6. The Jedi Queen

A/N: Chap 5 review responses are in my forums as normal. Thanks for reading.

* * *

 **Chapter Six: The Jedi Queen**

To see tractor beam technology in action, put Kyle Katarn in a room full of women.

"Let me see the blade, Harry," Kol demanded.

Harry grinned at his friend, mindful of the still-healing splits in his lips from his trial, and lit the saber.

Kol, Danda and Graagi all made suitable "Whoa!" sounds at the deep violet, almost black color of the blade. "What kind of crystal did you use?" Danda asked.

"Stygium," Harry said. "There was a small clump of Stygium crystals that Kyle found years ago, before he ever met me, and he kept them here with the other crystals that Jedi have found over the years. I just…well, I was drawn to them, you might say. The Force guided me. I built my saber that very day, right in the chamber. Check this out, though!"

Harry deactivated his blade and closed his eyes. A moment later, he was not there anymore.

"Force!" Dande cried. "Where'd he go?"

"Right here," Harry said behind her. She spun around, as did the rest of his friends. "Stygium is used in cloaking technology, and it turns out if you're properly matched to the crystal, it can help your Force-concealing abilities! It's awesome! I even snuck away from Kyle using it!"

It was his second day back from the Great Library ruins, and his first day out of the infirmary. His quick recovery alone was cause for discussion among his peers and their masters, since he evidently recovered a lot faster than most. Of course, Kyle merely said, "That's because you came through it better than most."

"So, when will they clear you to spar with it?" Kol asked.

"I was cleared this morning," Harry said.

Danda stared wide-eyed, while Kol rolled his eyes. "Then let's go test it out. So, did you have any visions?"

They walked toward the salle as they spoke. "I think I saw Grandmaster Luke Skywalker," Harry admitted.

"Yeah, me too," Kol said. Rather than proud, he sounded awed. "Nice to know he's still looking out for me, you know? What did he tell you?"

"I…I was having some strange visions from my homeworld, I think. He told me how Kyle changed my fate, and how I changed his as well. What did you see?"

Kol kicked a rock form he hallway. "I saw forests burning here on Ossus," he said. "Weird, huh? Come on, let's try out that new blade of yours!"

Neither boy pushed too hard in the salle—though Harry felt light and intensely happy to have passed his first Jedi trial, he also felt so physically exhausted he did not even try any acrobatics. Rather, the two boys just went through some basic forms together, dueling lightly to allow Harry to test the weight and momentum of his blade. While lightsaber blades did not have weight per se, the hilts were built with a gyroscopic function to aid in the wielder's attacks.

During one of their duels, Harry said, "Want to see something neat?"

"Sure," Kol said.

Harry thumbed the activation switch one setting higher, and suddenly his blade elongated by four inches.

"Whoa, a dual-phase blade? Can I see?"

Harry deactivated the blade as did Kol before handing the hilt over.

Kol reactivated it and switched between the two settings. "I wanted to do dual-phase, but Master Geffen said I didn't need it." He finally deactivated it and handed it back. "That's a great blade, Harry. It'll do you good."

"Thanks, Kol."

Both boys looked up when Kyle stepped into the salle. "Anakol," the old Jedi said, "your master is in your rooms. Go to him—we're leaving on a mission."

"Really?" Kol bounced up in excitement. He managed a perfunctory bow before running from the room.

"We?" Harry asked.

"Ben asked for help," Kyle said in a serious tone. "Now that you've finished your first trial, you're ready to leave the Academy on missions. We're going to take the _Crow_ to save resources. Now that you've had a few years of studying Galactic tech, you should be able to make some progress studying the ship."

"Yes, Kyle!"

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

The cabin on the _Preening Crow_ seemed smaller to Harry, somehow. He knew intellectually that it was he who was larger, rather than the space being smaller, but nonetheless emotionally it seemed the ship was smaller.

Once they settled in after leaving Ossus, Kyle taught the ship's systems not just to Harry, but to Anakol as well. Somehow, it did not surprise Harry at all that his friend picked everything up about the ship far faster than he did. Despite his love of swoop racing, Harry only occasionally beat Kol, though at least in their dueling they had become more evenly matched over time. But when it came to piloting, Kol was simply better, and Harry accepted this as just one aspect of his friend's personality.

Kyle told him that the boy came by the skill and instinct naturally. After all, his grandfather survived a dogfight and destroyed a huge, planet-killing battle-station the very first time he sat in a Starfighter, with only a few hours of simulation training.

Still, given his three years of complete emersion in the teachings and technology of the greater galaxy, Harry did find it much easier to follow Kyle's lectures on the ship, and to read the diagrams detailing the ship's structures and engines. He discovered he already knew many of the systems in the cockpit just based on the flight simulator work that all Jedi padawans went through to gain proficiency in the Jedi's preferred fighters—the XJ7 X-Wing starfighter, which was also the primary starfighter of the Alliance. It was an older fighter, but was still considered the work horse of the Alliance. In fact, Harry remembered many hours playing in Kyle's portable simulator back on Earth, never realizing that what he thought was a video game was actually training him to fly.

Eventually, given the fact this was a training mission as much as anything, Kyle occasionally took the _Crow_ out of hyperspace and let both Harry and Kol take turns piloting her, placing her through various maneuvers until both young padawans had a good feel for the craft.

They spent the evenings in transit playing holochess, or watching vids when they weren't training and meditating. Master Geffen meditated a lot, it seemed. When he wasn't meditating, he was telling jokes. Though he did not fight in the Vong war, the other Jedi Master was a padawan during the Galactic Civil war begun by Jacen Solo, and also fought in actions to remove the Despot Daala from her position as Chief of State of the old Alliance. He enjoyed telling stories of the older Jedi, though he always became somber whenever he talked about Jacen Solo, or a former Grandmaster named Kenth whom he admired, despite always shaking his head every time he mentioned the man.

Harry, of course, knew from his reading that Kenth Hamner died at the hands of his own friend, Master Saba Sabatyne, when he defended Daala during that terrible conflict during Luke Skywalker's exile.

During the other man's stories, Kyle, who was a Jedi master and in the middle of everything Geffen described, said nothing. Instead, he sat hunched in his seat stroking his scraggly, iron-grey beard and studying Harry intently.

They arrived at the edge of Imperial Space during their fourth day in transit. Because of the political nature of their trip, Kyle chose to follow the letter of the law and took the _Crow_ to the nearest custom station.

The station just happened to have a star destroyer in dock as well. "Is that one of the _Imperial IIIs?"_ Harry asked in shock.

Anakol rolled his eyes. " _Imperial III?_ That thing is 1200 meters max. Nah, that's a _Turbulent_ -class. Old Admiral Pelleon liked the smaller design, so half the Imperial fleet is made up of those things. Wait, are you…are we heading toward it?"

Indeed, the _Crow_ veered off its approach to the customs station and was now flying toward one of the two large hangars at the stern of the destroyer. Both boys ran from the lounge to the cockpit where Kyle flew and Master Geffen served as co-pilot.

Without looking up at their arrival, Kyle said, "Boys, put on your robes and lightsabers. We're going to have company."

Being inside a small ship, the boys had fallen into the habit of going without their sabers. They both ran to their cabins and drew on their formal padawan robes and hung their sabers to their belts. As they did so, through the tiny port windows in his cabin Harry could see the stars cut off by the brilliant lights of the hangar's interior.

They flew right past a rack of Imperial TIE/D2 _Defenders_ , the latest generation of TIE fighter based off the three-paneled TIE/D that was its name sake. The new fighters had two quadanium steel solar arrays, but the arrays were built in the old Tie/D formation. The fighters were larger with heavier weapons, shields and hyperdrives.

Kol came into his cabin after a brief knock and joined him at studying the intimidating fighters through their port windows. "What I wouldn't give to take one of those out," Kol said with a grin.

"Yeah."

Both looked up at a feeling of tugging in their minds and knew their masters were waiting. They emerged back into the main lounge just the ship landed. Geffen was first out of the sunken cockpit, followed a moment later by Kyle. "Best behavior, boys," Geffen said unnecessarily.

Kyle didn't need to say it—Harry knew he expected it.

Kyle slapped the wall switch and the front ramp began to lower, flooding the interior of the ship with the brilliance of the hangar floodlights. As senior Jedi, Kyle led the way down the ramp with Geffen a step behind to his right, followed by the boys.

Harry swallowed quietly at the sight of a full phalanx of storm troopers in gleaming white armor standing at attention facing them. At their forefront was a tall, thin woman with auburn hair frosted with white, immaculate in her gray uniform with captain's insignia and cap. She bowed sharply at the two Jedi.

"Master Kyle Katarn, Master Bandy Geffen, I am Captain Margot Debloef of His Majesty's Ship _Defender_. I have been given the honor of escorting you to Bastion."

"Captain," Kyle said with a nod. "We appreciate the offer. I take it then the invitation is for us to remain aboard?"

"That was the Regent's desire, Master Jedi," the captain said without the hint of a smile.

"Give the girl a crown and she suddenly gets bossy," Kyle muttered.

"She is our Empress Regent, Master Jedi," the captain said, a little miffed.

"And I've changed her diaper," Kyle pointed out. "Well, I'm not one to needlessly throw away fuel or food. We'll be glad to accept your offer, Captain."

"Excellent." Harry watched as her shoulders slightly relaxed, and he realized she'd been afraid Kyle might fight or resist. "If you follow me, I'll escort you to the state rooms. Do you wish your padawans housed in separate rooms?"

"No, thank you," Kyle said casually enough. "Traditionally padawans stay with their masters when possible."

"Very well. Would you also do me the honor of joining me for dinner tonight?"

"We'd be delighted," Kyle said with a surprisingly suave smile that seemed to bother the captain as much as the thought of him resisting.

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

One hour into the formal dinner with the captain, Harry realized with a sense of shock that the woman had a crush on Kyle.

Margot Debloef was one of a new breed of Imperial Officer, rising up through the ranks of a reorganized military under the auspices of a female Jedi warrior as their Empress, and a more enlightened Moff council that brushed away the last misogynistic tendencies of the old Empire. She was well educated, a veteran of the last Civil War and insanely loyal to the Empress Regent, Allana Fel. She was forty-eight years old, never married, a career officer, and she liked sabbacc and Chandrilan brandy, sipping it from a crystal goblet after the dessert was cleared by the ship's protocol droid.

And as the evening progressed, she let her coiled hair down and flirted openly with the old Jedi Master while Geffen politely nibbled at an appertif, and Harry and Kol struggled not to giggle at the sight of an Imperial officer _flirting!_

Harry, though, was just as astounded at how smoothly Kyle responded to it, feeding the woman's flirtation with anecdotes. Finally the captain said, "Master Katarn, would you like a tour of ship?"

She was speaking only to him, and more surprisingly Kyle said, "That sounds delightful, Captain."

Kyle winked at Geffen as he escorted the captain out of the dining room, while a straight-faced young lieutenant escorted Harry, Kol and Master Geffen back to their stateroom. Once the door closed, Kol started giggling, until Master Geffen cleared his throat and said, "Be mindful of your environment."

 _They were listening_ , in other words.

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

Harry slept alone in the room he and Kyle were assigned to that night, but when he woke the next morning it was to the sound of real water running in the fresher while Kyle trimmed his beard and shaved the edges into a straight, immaculate line.

"Did you sleep, Kyle?" Harry asked.

"Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies," the old man said with what for him was open cheerfulness. "We'll be arriving at Bastion within the hour. Let's get moving."

They took breakfast in the stateroom by themselves, and when they were escorted to the _Crow_ , the captain did not see them off. Rather, a stone-faced executive officer gave them a sharp salute as they walked up the ramp of their ship. Once on board, Master Geffen quietly started looking for listening devices.

Harry and Kol joined at his silent signal, and before they even reached the atmosphere of Bastion, they'd cleaned out five such devices, as well as two tracker beacons.

"Business as normal," Kyle said when the ship was clear. "Listen up, all of you. I found out quite a bit from little miss chatter box. There have been several assassination attempts against the Regent, and the last one may have involved Sith. That's why Ben asked for help. The cadre Allana has put together to be knights is not sufficiently trained to interdict Sith."

"Will we never be free of the Dark Side?" Master Geffen said tiredly.

"Maybe, when we lose the Force entirely, but not before then," Kyle said. He brought the ship down with a sure hand into the capital world of the Empire. Harry looked out over the planet in interest. It had huge clumps of development—buildings scraping the sky itself, with sky-hooks in the distance for easy commutes from the surface to the defense platforms in orbit. However, between the cities were massive open tracts of land that were all cultivated in grids.

"Self-sufficiency," Kyle said with a note of respect. "In the event of a blockade, Bastion can mostly feed itself. Unlike Coruscant."

They flew toward one of the larger clumps of development, with golden towers shining under the light of Bastion's sun. As they flew closer, Harry could make out the details of the largest tower, the golden one that rose from the center of the buildings. It was much broader than the others, with various landing platforms sprouting from its sides like fungal growth, and several hangars large enough to hold a small frigate. This, then, had to be the Imperial Palace.

Kyle flew closer, until the whole ship shuttered abruptly. "Okay, they have us. Shut down the main drives. Let's not give anyone a reason to be nervous."

The tractor beam brought the _Preening Crow_ into one of the smaller platforms toward the top of the structure. As they grew closer, they saw a small party of people waiting for them. Kol grinned and said, "Mom! Dad!"

He couldn't possibly see them, but Harry guessed his friend was able to sense them in the Force. When the ship finally landed and they disembarked, Harry saw that among those waiting were Anakol's parents. Ben Skywalker was dressed in his traditional Jedi robes. His wife, however, was dressed in a strange set of red chest armor and vambraces. The rest of the uniform consisted of black armor weave that was likely just as strong as the plates, but much more flexible.

Harry looked for Ansaki, but didn't find her.

Kyle looked at the armor and snorted. "So instead of Imperial Guards, you're Imperial Knights, now? I'm surprised you don't use Force pikes."

"Spoken like a storm trooper who was rejected for the Imperial Guard cadre," Vestara Khai sneered back.

"Please," Kyle laughed. "I was already working for the Alliance before that even entered my mind." The laughter faded as he looked at the last two members of the greeting party. The woman was simply breathtaking, with long, gently curling golden-red hair and an oval face with warm gray eyes. She stood straight and strong, with a certain ageless quality about her face. In front of her stood a boy of nine or ten years old. Like his mother, he was clothed in purple lined in gold. He had rich black hair and deep, dark blue eyes. Though he was only a few years younger than Harry and Anakol, he stood with calm patience in front of his beautiful mother. This boy was Emperor of one quarter of the galaxy.

"Allana," Kyle said somberly. "You're looking as beautiful as always. How is your mother?"

"Alive, for the moment," the Empress Regent of the Empire, and the next Chume'da of the Hapes Consortium said. She spoke with a warm, inviting contralto voice that thrummed with confidence, control, and subtle yet definite power. "And you, Kyle? I admit I'm surprise to see you still going. You're past your first century, aren't you?"

"Plus a few," Kyle said. He then bowed to the young boy. "Emperor, an honor. We have not met before."

"We have heard of you, though, Master Katarn," the boy said with a regel nod. Unlike his mother's voice, his was the high pitched voice of youth. However, he had the same timbre of control his mum did. "We are grateful you came. This Sith resurgence has proven most vexing."

"I bet it is," Kyle said. Then he winked. "You said that well, Anakin. You're diction coaches are doing excellent work with you."

Harry was surprised to see the boy, Emperor Anakin Solo Fel I, grin suddenly and look up at his mother, who patted his shoulder in approval.

"Empress Regent," Kyle said formally, "may I introduce my padawan, Harry Potter, of Earth."

Harry gave a text-pad perfect bow; the Empress Regent returned a nod. "Vestara told me you had taken another padawan, Kyle. I just wasn't sure I believed it. And this, of course, is our dear cousin Anakol. Anakol and Anakin, that won't be confusing at all, will it?"

"He goes most often by Kol," Ben said helpfully.

"Good," Allana said. "Anakin prefets to go by Nik. That will clear things up immensely. Perhaps, Nik, you would be willing to show your cousin and Padawan Potter around the palace?"

"Of course, mother," Anakin said primly. "By your leave, Master Jedi?" Without waiting for an answer, he left the pad, expecting Harry and Anakin to follow. At their master's urging, they did just that, which allowed the adults to talk in peace.

"So, Nik, how've you been?" Anakol said casually.

"I'm _sooooo_ bored!" the Emperor whined. Suddenly, he no longer sounded like the next leader of the Empire, but like a nine-year-old boy. "They don't let me do anything! Mother even took away my swoop bike!"

"Wow," Harry and Anakol both said. "That's harsh," Kol added.

"It's because that stupid Sith that got into the palace," Anakin said as he led them into the personal residence of the Imperial family. The entry-way of the family's official residence was as large as the entire Jedi academy, and was lined with dozens of beautiful men and women in matching black and silver uniforms.

"They reassigned all the personnel out of our wing, too," Nik was saying as he led them in. "These Human Replica Droids just aren't the same. I mean, they have personalities and are nice, but they just aren't like having friends my own age."

Harry blinked and stared at the line of beautiful people—too beautiful, he quickly saw. The faces were so completely symmetrical he saw that they were just too perfect to be human. Reaching out in the Force, he felt nothing at all, despite the fact that they were looking back at him with obvious curiosity.

Kol and his cousin were still talking a few meters ahead; Harry rushed to catch up. "So, are you studying Jedi arts?" Kol was asking.

The young Emperor nodded. "Yeah, along with everything else. Your mother has been teaching me sabers—she's kind of scary, you know?"

"Yeah, I know," Anakol said with a laugh.

"But now that you're here, maybe they'll let me out more," Anakin continued.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

Anakin studied Harry intently with a wisdom beyond his years. "Jedi Masters to guard the Empress Regent, Jedi padawans to guard the young Emperor, and Imperial Knights to guard us all. Surely they have to give me a little freedom now, as long as I have you two to tag along."

Harry felt certain the Fel heir was correct; just as he felt certain he would regret that fact.


	7. Taking Care of Business

A/N: Chap six review responses are in my forums as usual. Thank you all for reading.

* * *

 **Chapter Seven: Taking Care of Business**

Kyle Katarn's blood type is Bryar DL-44 Blaster Pistol

As much as Anakol Skywalker was considered royalty among the Jedi Order, the young Emperor Anakin Solo Fel had just as much claim to a Jedi heritage, totally aside from his actual royal status. In fact, the two cousins had the very same lineage, Harry discovered to his surprise, save they were removed by one generation.

Whereas Anakol was the son of Ben Skywalker and the grandson of Luke and Mara Skywalker, Anakin Solo Fel was the son of Allana Solo Fel, the biological daughter of Jacen Solo, granddaughter of Luke's twin sister Leia Organa Solo. Both descended from the infamous Anakin Skywalker, known throughout the galaxy as Darth Vader.

From what Harry had learned from Kol, Jacen Solo fell to the Dark Side of the Force and was killed at the end by his own twin sister, Jaina Solo. Jaina went on to marry Jagged Fel, first Emperor of the Reborn Empire, late in their lives. When they failed to produce an heir, and after Leia and Han Solo died, the royal couple adopted Jaina's niece Allana as their heir. Allana, having been raised not only in the ways of the Force, but also in the ways of politics, chose to marry Jagged's brother Fyric Fel, then 60 years old, to solidify her position within the Empire. What became a despotic organization shifted into true constitutional monarchy with the birth of Allana's son Anakin.

Unfortunately, assassination attempts were a constant threat, and when Anakin Solo Fel was only a baby, Jaina and Jagged Fel died at the hands of Sith assassins. Thus Allana stepped forward not as Empress, but as the Empress Regent for her son, a Fel prince born and bred. This act of seeming self-effacement ensured the full cooperation of the Moff College, which served as a merit-based legislative body to balance the throne's power, and guaranteed the adoration and love of the Empire's people not only for her son, but for her rule as well.

Nor did it hurt that Allana, now in her forties, was still a stunningly beautiful woman. The people of Bastion adored her, and her image was bandied about like currency in some places. Harry couldn't help but blush every single time she walked into the room to greet her son.

For all the history and politics, though, Anakin Fel, Nik to his friends, was surprisingly normal, including possessing the same vices as many of the boys at the Praxeum. He liked to watch holovids about the various wars his family had been involved in, but he somehow also had a secret file containing holovids that the Empress Regent most certainly would not have approved of. Harry wasn't even sure he approved of them.

Nik grinned at Kol and Harry after a quick glance around the room to ensure they were alone, and started a re-enactment of Luke Skywalker's final confrontation with the Sith Emperor Palpatine. At first Harry thought it was just another historical drama, until the actress playing Mara Jade took her clothes off and started doing very strange and interesting things with the Emperor's entourage in front Luke. She then moved to Luke himself, giving the Emperor, Darth Vader and the whole court a show that left Harry short of breath and with burning red ears.

"You know," Harry finally said, "from what I saw when Master Luke came to me during the trials, I don't think anything like that would actually ever happen."

"Who cares, she's naked?" Kol said, a typical boy having just turned fourteen.

"You realize that's your grandmother, right?" Harry asked to his friend.

"No, that's Stefanee Blaze," Nik said with an authority over the subject matter no nine-year-old should ever have. "I have two more of her vids too."

"If Mother caught us, we'd be dead," Kol said.

Harry, though, shook his head. "You think for a minute they don't know?" he said. "Nik, your Mum's virtually a Jedi master in her own right, and Kol your dad's the Jedi Grandmaster. They probably have a hundred monitors in this room, even if they didn't already know from the Force."

Kol grinned and picked at Harry's red ears. "What's the problem, Harry? It's just sex, it won't hurt you."

"And if you're interested, I have a few holovids about Kyle Katarn too," Nik said with bright eyes. He touched his control pad, and suddenly another naughty holovid appeared. Harry watched in fascination because he was a thirteen-year-old boy going on fourteen. But as he did so, he felt a curling in his stomach as he recognized who the naked woman writhing on Kyle was supposed to be.

"Nik," he said, "could you…could you turn that off?"

"Harry, stop being a prude," Kol said. "I know you come from a backward planet, but come on, you're culture has to have sex too or you wouldn't be here.

Harry blushed furiously. "It's not that, it's…Kyle's…You guys don't understand how much it hurt him to lose her. It's not right to watch this. I'm sorry."

The two boys stared blinking in surprise a moment before Nik shrugged. "No, it's okay," the young emperor said, and the images went away. "Can you imagine what it must have been like when Jedi weren't supposed to have attachments?"

"Yeah," Kol said with a snort, "you'd have a lot of dirty socks."

"I don't get it," Harry admitted.

Nik snorted. "Yeah, why use socks? That's what HRDs are for."

The three boys all turned to look at one of the Human Replica Droids that walked into the young Emperor's room bearing a tray of snacks. It was not just feminine in configuration, but overwhelmingly so. "What do you mean?" Harry asked, confused but beginning to suspect what the other boys were talking about.

Kol, though, said, "No way."

"Absolutely," Nik said with swagger. "They're programmed to do anything I say."

"Like what, change your diaper?" Kol said with a snort. "You're nine!"

"So, it's not like you've ever done anything!" Nik said with wounded pride. "And they have to do anything I say! _Anything_ ," he added, stressing the word while waggling his eyebrows.

Harry looked back to the soul-less but seemingly alive construct, which astonishingly turned and looked at them. It seemed to him that the Human Replica Droid was actually smirking when it said, "With respect, Your Majesty, my primary programming was established by her highness the Empress Regent. Accordingly, my clothes will remain on. Your snacks are served."

After the droid left, Kol snorted, and then started laughing at Nik's expression of embarrassment. Finally the young Emperor laughed as well and the three boys had their snack and eventually switched back to historical holovids in which the actors kept their clothes on.

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

Sometimes it was easy to forget that Nik was only nine. He carried himself as if he were older, and spoke with a level of articulation and intelligence unusual for many adults, much less children. He projected a world-weary cynicism that Harry had never encountered, but he soon learned why.

With their masters' orders to stay by Nik's side every day, Harry and Kol each had a crash course in the life of an emperor-in-training. Nik's studies were even more demanding that Harry's and Kol's at the Academy. And since their Master's said nothing to the contrary, Kol and Harry began taking those same lessons.

Soon, Harry began learning why his Basic was so poor, while other teachers taught both he and Kol to walk with proper posture. They had to attend etiquette classes twice a week, as well as the most detailed, mind-numbing classes in politics Harry had ever imagined possible. The classes did not just dwell on the current state of the Empire, but on the Galactic Alliance, and the New and Old Republics before it, with concentration on the events in which the governments failed.

"We learn far more from a government's failings than from its successes," the instructor droned on. Harry suspected he too was an HRD, save for the Force-presence which clearly indicated organic life.

"How do you even stay awake?" Harry finally asked the Emperor.

"For the first year, the teacher gave me a shock if I started falling asleep," Nik admitted. "Hurt like the blazes, too. Whatever you do, don't fall asleep."

The best time of the day, though, was when Kol's mum, Vestara Khai, came to conduct their saber training, since Kol's father, his master Bandy Geffen, and Kyle were all off planet chasing down the threat to the royal family. Harry learned after the fact that Ansaki was with them.

The saber-training was a new experience because Vestara's technique was Sith-based. Though Harry did not sense much of the Dark Side within her, she definitely was not a Jedi in her outlook on the Force and combat in general.

"Jedi fight to defend, but the Sith fight to win. When you fight solely to defend, you place yourself at a disadvantage from the outset," she told the boys during their first lesson together. "You, Nik, will be Emperor. Though it is unlikely you will ever have to personally fight in war, the number of assassinations your family has faced makes it important for you to learn these skills. If an attacker strikes at you, do not fight to defend yourself against him. Instead, fight to kill him so that he cannot threaten you or yours again. That is the role of the Imperial Knights."

The Imperial Knights, of course, did not quite exist yet. Allana's brainchild was to have a dedicated body of gray Jedi as full-time defenders of the throne. It was a controversial idea, both among the Empire's allies and even within the Moff College. However, it was impossible to deny the powerful Jedi heritage within the royal family when Allana told the College that her son had to be trained in the Jedi arts for his own safety. From there, it was only a small step to collect a few other Force-strong youths within the Empire to train with him not just as comrades, but as future guards.

Harry understood the concern, but also the advantages to Nik personally. He and Kol were there in almost the same capacity, especially since the future knights were right now little more than Initiates. Still, in some ways Harry thought having a body of Force-strong warriors who did not follow the Jedi Code, but instead were loyal solely to a single monarch, could be a recipe for disaster. What would happen if the Empire and the Jedi Order ever clashed?

He didn't say anything, of course. Instead, he threw himself into his lessons and had to admit that Kol's mother was very good. In a straight duel, she might have even been as good as Kyle was. On the other hand, Kyle was over a hundred years old. Harry thought that during his prime, his master would have been able to take her easily.

They spent several months there—long enough for Harry's fourteenth birthday to pass unremarked as Kyle, Ben and Bandy continued to scour the Empire and the galaxy at large for the assassins who had come so close to killing Nik on the last attempt.

When the strike came, it did so without warning.

Harry and Kol were sleeping in the anteroom they shared just off the Emperor's personal quarters when Harry sat up with a gasp. Across the spacious room, Kol sat up as well. "What was that?"

"I don't know," Harry said, "but it doesn't feel right."

Communicating with a single look, the two boys scrambled out of their beds, pulled on their day clothes and secured their lightsabers to their belts before rushing into Nik's quarters. The young Emperor was still soundly asleep, either due to his youth or the fact that Harry and Kol were just more sensitive to the Force.

Standing at the Emperor's bed, Harry saw a lone figure draped in black, holding a weapon pointed at the sleeping Emperor.

Harry did not think; he reacted. With his whole being thrumming with a need to be right there, he felt his insides squeezed and suddenly he _was_ there, on the bed's platform across the twenty meter floor of the Emperor's personal quarters, somehow retaining the momentum of his previous steps. He spun, lit his lightsaber, and struck with all his might at the assassin.

His dark blue, almost black blade did not cut through his attacker, but rather struck a scintillating red lightsaber that lit a pair of yellow eyes set in a face mottled with black and white tattoos. Harry's eyes widened in fear as he realized he'd locked blades with a Sith. Sensing that fear, the Sith assassin smiled to reveal a mouthful of sharpened teeth.

"It is a virtual buffet of foolish young Jedi," the Sith said in a low growl.

Harry had no time for a witty response—the attacker pulled his knee up sharply. Harry twisted his hip to block it, but being shorter by a foot than the attacker, the knee bypassed his groin entirely and struck his stomach. He fought for breath even as the Sith Force-blasted him off the pedestal. However, while he was still falling, Anakol Skywalker flew over him to take his place with a fiery shout.

"Harry, get Nik out now!" Kol said as he engaged the Sith in a flurry of blows. His technique was not purely Jedi—Harry could see a lot of his mother's Sith-trained moves as well. Harry had a moment of indecision between defending his friend, and doing his duty.

Duty won the day. Harry scrambled to his feet and rushed toward the bed where Nik had woken, stood and was now wielding his own silver lightsaber. "Not the time, Nik!" Harry said.

"We've got to help Kol!"

"We've got to get you to safety! That's why Kol and I are here, remember?" Harry disagreed. "Come on!"

Nik took a long, agonizing look at where Kol was somehow holding the taller, stronger Sith at bay, and deactivated his blade. "The safe room is on the other side."

"Let's go."

The safe room had the same armor around it as the reactor of a star destroyer, and could withstand anything short of prolonged ship-based turbo-laser bombardment. If that was not enough, it also had ray and particle shields as powerful as most planetary-level shielding arrays.

And yet, as they grew close to it, Harry's gut twisted with unease. He slowed, forcing Nik to slow as well. "What?" the young Emperor demanded.

"Something is wrong," Harry said with a dread certainty.

A moment later, the door that led to the chamber blew open. Harry had presence of mind enough to deflect the door with the Force, though it was actually Nik who got them both on the ground as a huge tongue of flame billowed out over them. The heat of the blast was astonishing—Harry could feel the skin on his face and hands burn and his hair singe. When the boys looked back up, they could see the interior of the room burning with white flame.

"Damn," Harry whispered. "Nik, are you okay?"

"My hair!" Nik said, moaning over the many burned ends of the young Emperor's reddish-brown hair. Harry figured if all he complained about was his hair, the he was probably okay otherwise.

Behind them, Kol backed away from the Sith's onslaught. With the safe room destroyed, probably by a bomb the assassin himself planted, Harry wondered what options they had. Running wildly through an obviously compromised palace did not seem to be a very good idea, most especially considering that the loyal forces would want them to stay put.

"No help for it," Harry decided out loud. "Nik, I know you want to help, but you don't have the reach or experience yet. If you get in the way, you'll just make it easier for the Sith to kill you. Stay here by the wall. If any more Sith come, you run, okay?"

Wide eyed, at that moment Anakin looked exactly like a frightened nine-year-old boy. Harry grabbed his shoulder in a brief attempt at comfort before he reactivated his lightsaber and ran toward the duel. Kol's face appeared flushed with exertion, and he already had a score on his leg that must have hurt horribly.

The Sith sensed Harry's re-entry into the fray, and with an astonishing blast of Force lighting, blew Kol out of the fight long enough to meet Harry's attack head-on. As the first moments of the fight passed, Harry moved beyond his fear and fell into the Force, just as he had during his trials. His body reacted as the Force directed, but at the same time the Force itself responded to his desire.

The problem was that the Force was _also_ with the Sith, who was obviously older, stronger and just as fast as Harry. The sense of mounting peril grew as the fight continued, until Harry knew for a certainty that he could not win by himself.

Finally, though, Kol recovered enough from the Force-lightening attack to jump into the fight again. With that brief respite, Harry eased his attack to give his friend access, but also to catch his breath and center his thoughts. Where were the others? Where was Vestara or Allana? For that matter, where were the Imperial guards?

Determining they could not wait for help to come, Harry racked his brain for a solution when he looked down at his lightsaber. _Of course_. He willed himself to be invisible, and the Force flowed through the Stygium crystals of his saber to do just that. Harry disappeared entirely.

He struck first over Kol's shoulder without warning. It was a testament to the Sith's own skills and connection to the Force that he was able to deflect a blow from literally out of nowhere, but Harry could see doubt on the man's tattoo-covered face for the first time. Harry backed away, crossed around Kol and attacked the Sith next from the rear.

Again, the Sith was able to detect the strike, but in the process opened himself to Kol's continuing attack. The man gasped as Kol's saber burned his left arm; he back-flipped away from the potentially disarming blow, and once on his feet, raised his hands to unleash another explosion of Force-lightening right at Kol.

Harry saw his friend's expression of fear and knew Kol could not withstand another such blast. Desperate, Harry jumped between his friend and the danger and put forth every iota of energy he had to block the lightning. The air in front of him shimmered as he conjured a shield which intercepted the lightning entirely. The effort left him exhausted, but it obviously shocked the Sith. Kol was fairly surprised as well, though the young Jedi said nothing as he attacked again.

Too tired to risk any acrobatics, Harry adjusted the length of his saber to its maximum length, sank back into invisibility, and then darted in again opposite Kol.

The Sith slashed at him blindly, but rather than stabbing, Harry put everything he had left into a push with the Force. The Sith stumbled toward Kol still in the act of trying to cut Harry; in a quarter of a second, Kol took the man's head with a single swipe of his blade. The headless Sith toppled to the floor as his now deactivated red lightsaber clattered against the expensive tiles.

Gasping with exhaustion, Harry let go of his weakened grip on the Force, deactivated his blade, and sank to the floor.

"That was incredible!" Nik crowed from the far wall. "Harry, how did you do that?"

"That's what I'd like to know," Kol said, eyes wide. "How'd you stop that Force lightening?"

"Something native to my planet, I think," Harry told his friend.

Just then Allana Fel raced through the door flanked by a squad of ten black-armored Storm Troopers and Vestara Khai. The Regent's stunning red hair was wild and unkempt and her face was darkened by soot. Her light evening robes were burned and cut, revealing a stretch of leg that made Harry's cheeks burn. Vestara also showed signs of fighting.

"What happened?" the Regent said.

"Sith," Harry said, too tired to talk.

"We handled it," Kol added.

The two women eyed the headless Sith, then looked to the two exhausted padawans. Then, with a soft cry Allana rushed to engulf her son in a hug. "Moooooom!" Nik moaned as she buried his face to her bosom.

Harry's blush faded to a sharp, intense pain as he looked at a mother holding her son, followed a moment later by gratitude that he was able to keep mother and son together. Kol walked over and sank to the floor beside him.

"You know, we make a pretty good team," he said.

"Yeah, I guess we do."

"Like Skywalker and Kenobi."

"Just don't call me Obi-Wan. That's a really stupid-sounding name."

Kol laughed tiredly. Both boys looked up as Vestara knelt down in front of them. "Are either of you hurt?"

"Kol took a burn to the leg and Force-lightening," Harry said.

"And you?"

"I'm just tired."

Vestara nodded. "You both did very well. Come, I imagine the Regent will keep her son with her for the remainder of the night. The attack has been put down; it is safe for now."

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

Harry was given his own suite after the Empress Regent had her son moved into her personal suites to keep a better eye on him. Harry at once pitied Nik, and envied him as well. Despite being an astutely political person, Allana was also a dedicated, loving mother. Nik was lucky, as far as Harry was concerned.

He didn't see much of Kol either after the attack, but for a more serious reasons. Force-lightning attacks had a disastrous effect on bones if left untreated, and for an adolescent whose bones were still growing, this was especially serious. So, where Harry and Kol were both sure he'd be out of the infirmary in a few hours, he ended up spending a full day in Bacta with another three days in observation and on a special calcium supplement. His mother was by his side every minute of the day, leaving Harry alone to his thoughts in his spacious, fully stocked quarters.

On the second day, fighting boredom unlike any he had ever experienced, Harry watched one of the feminine HRD's bring in his lunch. "Ummm, hello," he said.

"Hello, young Master Jedi," the droid said. She sounded perfectly human, and looked perfectly human.

"Are you allowed to talk?" Harry asked.

She smirked, and Harry felt a sense of shock that this was the same droid that used to serve Nik. "As long as my clothes remain on, yes."

Harry's cheeks burned. "That's not…I mean…well, you see it's…"

"I was joking, young Master Jedi," she assured him.

Harry grinned briefly and then blinked. "Are you really a droid?"

"I am."

"Could I…I mean, could I touch your hand?"

"Of course."

Harry walked forward and took her hand in his. The skin felt soft and warm to him, but when he pressed a finger gently across her wrist, he felt no pulse. And the warm was only skin deep—he could feel the workings of something hard and inorganic under the skin. "Is your skin organic?"

"It is a new form of Synthflesh, the same as is used for cybernetic limbs on amputees," she said, not at all bothered by his touch.

"Are you based on a living model?"

"My appearance, and the appearance of most of the droids in the palace, were drawn up based on computer models of what humans consider to be attractive. There are HRDs for five other species drawn up according to the same specifications."

"Oh, does that mean you really can be…well…"

"Engaged sexually? Yes, both feminine and masculine HRDs are capable of interacting sexually with biologicals. It is one aspect of our core programming, as originally we were designed as both sexual partners and assassins."

Harry's ears were burning. "Do you…do you feel?"

"Of course, I can feel your touch now, as well as your accelerated heartbeat."

"I mean emotions."

"I can simulate emotions," the HRD said, "but I do not experience them as you do. However, my simulation subroutines are convincing enough that most humans obtain the fulfillment they seek from those reactions."

Harry blinked and looked up at her. "What about you? Do you get any fulfillment?"

"Not as you do, young Master Jedi, but I do experience fulfillment in the accomplishment of my duties. Whether I am serving you your lunch, or should the Empress Regent require me to, giving the Emperor his first sexual experiences, I will have fulfilled my programing, and in so doing accomplished my purpose."

"So you live to serve?"

"I _exist_ to serve, young Master Jedi. I know it is easy to assign human emotion to me because of my appearance. That was in fact why I appear as I do. However, I am not human. Any feelings you have regarding me are your own, I assure you."

 _There was no life within her._

"Thank you for speaking to me."

"It is my pleasure," she said, smiling. And they both knew she was lying because that is what she was programmed to do.


	8. The Call of Home

A/N: Chap 7 review responses are in my forums like normal. Thanks for reading.

* * *

 **Chapter Eight: The Call of Home**

-Home is where Kyle Katarn says it is.

Kyle finally returned to Bastion on the fourth day after the attack. Harry felt his master almost the moment he entered the system, and could not help but fidget nervously. It had been months since he saw his master, and he deeply missed the grouchy old man.

Of course, Kyle could not come immediately to fetch his padawan. So, Harry waited and tried to meditate for hours as Kyle did whatever it was he had to do, before at last he sensed his master's presence approaching. When the door opened and Kyle walked in, Harry felt a sense of shock at just how _old_ the Jedi Master appeared.

Just in the past few months, Kyle had lost weight and his face looked thinner and even a little gaunt. He moved slowly with exhaustion as he came in and went straight for Harry's bed. Harry felt alarm when Kyle did not even acknowledge him; instead the old Jedi laid down on the bed with a sigh.

"Kyle…master, are you alright?"

"Just tired, Harry," Kyle said gruffly.

"Were you hurt?"

Kyle must have heard the fear in Harry's voice. "Come lay down, Harry," Kyle said.

Hesitantly, Harry climbed up onto the bed and lay beside the old Jedi. Kyle smelled faintly of smoke and sweat. "Allana told me what you and Kol did," Kyle said. His voice emerged as a reedy whisper. "Kol also said that he would have died if not for you. We are all very, very proud of you."

Harry's cheeks burned. "I thought pride was a bad thing."

"Pride for one's self, perhaps. But pride for another is not, and I have a great deal of pride in you, Harry." Kyle closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Did you and Master Skywalker find out what happened?"

"It was the Hapans, just like Allana suspected," Kyle said. The old Jedi told Harry the full story.

The Hapan Consortium allied itself with a new order of Sith that called itself the One Sith, though it had dozens of agents despite the supposed Rule of Two. Though Kyle and Ben were not successful in tracking down the leader of the new Sith order, they were able to find out who was funding the assassination attempts.

Allana Fel, as the biological daughter of Jacen Solo and Tenel Ka, was also the Chume'da of the Hapan Consortium, and upon Tenel's death would become Queen Mother of the Hapan people. However, the noble houses of the Consortium had a deep distrust and even hatred of the Jedi and the Empire. Allana, as a trained Jedi and Empress Regent, embodied everything they feared and hated—she would be a Jedi Queen.

And so they followed the traditions of their people and made agreements with the One Sith to kill the entire Fel line. To support the sole Sith assassin who made it into the palace, the Hapans supplied almost a thousand mercenaries and armament to make even the palace waiver. They smuggled the attackers in using low-level Imperial officers who accepted bribes in the belief the soldiers were merely illegal immigrants to Bastion.

The whole conspiracy fell apart from the inside. While Allana and her loyalists viciously cleaned out the Imperial Navy, the Hapan Queen Mother herself was taking even harsher steps in the Hapan Consortium to deal with those who tried to assassinate her daughter and grandson. In the short term, it looked as if the Empire and Jedi had won the day.

"I sense a 'but' though," Harry said.

"We never found the main body of the Sith," Kyle said. "The very idea of a Sith Order that does not follow the Rule of Two is disturbing. Ben is deeply troubled by it, and has placed the whole Jedi Order on alert. We don't want to see a return to the days of the Sith Wars."

The idea was frightening to Harry as well. "Master, what if…"

Harry stopped when he realized Kyle was sound asleep. With a sad smile at his master's exhaustion, Harry pulled the bed's comforter over the old man before resuming his position beside him. There was a strange comfort in having his master so close, especially after such long isolation, and so Harry himself drifted off the sleep.

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

Harry's dreams that night were very odd, among the oddest he had ever had. He dreamed he was walking through an ancient, primitive stone castle lined with strange, metal suits of armor and portraits that moved and watched his every step as he drifted through the halls.

After some interminable time, he arrived in a long, open hall large enough possibly to fit a pair of TIE fighters on their racks. The walls were lined in huge stained-glass windows depicting odd scenes of old wizards battling fantastic beasts. The ceiling, however, showed clouds, lightning, and a rain that only fell a few feet before disappearing.

In the center of this strange hall sat a small table. On one side sat Dumbledore in baby-blue robes with his beard thrown casually over one shoulder. Opposite him sat a scintillating shadow without any discernible features save for a pair of red eyes. And between them, watching the table, stood a pensive Luke Skywalker.

Harry moved closer to the strange tableau, and as he grew closer he saw they were playing an odd variation of dejarik. Only, instead of the round hologame tables that filled the game room at the Jedi Academy on Ossus, the opponents played on a square table. Instead of holofigures, they played with astonishingly detailed figurines. The closer he came, the more detail Harry could see in the pieces. He realized this was Chess, the Earth equivalent of dejarik.

Not all pieces were people. Some looked like horrid monsters or giants. The shadow moved a piece that looked like a snarling, rabid Bothan, and Dumbledore responded by moving his own snarling Bothan to block it. The shadow advanced a figure in black robes and a silver mask, and again Dumbledore moved his own black-robed and silver-masked figure to block the advance.

The shadow moved forward a cup with an ethereal blue light, and the figure that Dumbledore moved was that of Harry Potter himself, wielding a lightsaber. Harry saw immediately that Dumbledore was putting himself into a vulnerable position, creating a Dejarik Fork. With the cup in place, the shadow could take either Harry, or the silver-masked man.

"A foolish move," the Shadow said.

"But necessary regardless," Dumbledore said.

The shadow took the cup piece, and with it knocked Harry's figure down. The moment Harry's piece fell he felt a sharp sting in his stomach.

Speaking for the first time, Luke looked sadly at Harry. "The time has come, Harry. I'm sorry, but it is time for you to go home. Your destiny has called."

The sting became a deep, grinding pain.

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

Harry woke to an empty bed and a discomfort in his stomach, which he first attributed to his dream. Reaching out with the Force, he quickly located his master in the adjoining fresher and sighed with relief.

When Kyle emerged a few minutes later, fully dressed and with his gray beard trimmed, he looked better than the previous night. His color was better, though he still looked slimmer than what Harry remembered.

"Good morning, Harry," the Jedi master said. "Hurry and shower. There is to be an awards ceremony this morning."

"What?" Harry felt his stomach twist. "I didn't think Jedi received awards!"

"We don't," Kyle said. "But for the sake of politics, you and Kol do. You both displayed the bravery and skill of fully trained Jedi despite your ages, and in so doing saved the life of the Emperor. Trust me, even Ben realizes how important this is. So, get dressed and put on your best robes."

"Yes, Kyle."

Dressed and cleaned as best he could, Harry returned to his quarters to find Kyle decked out in full Jedi regalia, something he'd never seen before. It somehow made his master look even more intimidating than normal. When they emerged into the hallway, Kyle led him to one of the many turbolifts of the palace.

They emerged in a small but luxuriously appointed anteroom that had an astonishing view of the city below, reminding Harry of the sheer size of the palace tower. A moment later, Kol walked in with Master Geffen and his parents, Master Skywalker and his wife Vestara. Vestara wore her crimson Imperial Knight armor, while Ben wore the same Jedi regalia as Kyle. There was nothing to mark him as the Grandmaster, save the sheer _presence_ he projected into the Force. It was startling to Harry to realize that Ben was, at least in terms of presence, more powerful than Kyle was.

And with them stood Ansaki Taan. "Harry!" she said, smiling in delight.

Harry could only stare at the seventeen-year-old padawan for a moment before blinking away his shock at her appearance. She was a girl no longer—she looked like a grown woman. He smiled and bowed to her from the waist, before she shook her head and pulled him into a hug. "It feels like it's been forever! Look how tall you've grown!"

Harry could have said the same thing—she was still taller than him. But as he looked at her, he could see her delight and happiness at seeing him, but also something else that made his stomach hurt for reasons completely apart from his dream. _She saw him as a boy_.

"It happens, Taan," Kol said as he walked up to stand beside his friend. "You look great yourself. Did you have an adventure?"

Ansaki nodded, causing her montrals to quiver. "It was a challenge. The Hapan Consortium does not like Jedi. We were attacked five different times while we were there helping the Queen Mother. But we got it done!"

"So, Harry, why didn't you come see us?" Kol asked. "Taan's been here all day."

"I didn't know I was allowed to leave my chamber," Harry said.

Behind Kol, Vestara blinked in surprise. "What, did you think you were a prisoner?"

"Well, no," Harry said with a blush. "I just thought everyone was busy and I should remain where I was."

Kol rolled his eyes. "Force, Harry, you don't have to be perfect all the time!"

"No, but if I ever find you storing adult holovids, we will have words," Kyle said.

Kol looked as if he'd been slapped, while Harry's cheeks burned incandescent. The effect was ruined with Ansaki's laughter. "And to think the Sith-trained are supposed to be the cruel ones."

Kyle shrugged. "He's going to have plenty of time for girls to undo all of my training later, there's no point in rushing into it. Now, then…what's wrong, Harry?"

Harry had not said anything and kept his face blank, but Kyle could sense his discomfort through their link. "Just a stomach ache, Kyle. I guess I'm just nervous. I'll be fine."

Kyle gave him a long, searching look before nodding. "Well, don't be too nervous. Neither one of you will have to speak."

The door opened and a tall, blue-skinned, red-eyed Duros walked in bedecked in a sparklingly white robe of state with medallion of the Galactic Federation of Free Alliances symbol hanging from a gold chain on his chest. His bald head gleamed under the lights of the anteroom. Behind him came the Empress Regent herself.

"And these are our young heroes?" the Duros asked.

"Yes, Minister," Allana said with a smile at the two padawans. "The boy with the reddish hair is our cousin Anikol Skywalker. Beside him is Padawan Harry Potter."

The Duros's large red eyes stared unblinking at the two a moment. "Quite remarkable, the courage you have shown," he finally said. He straightened and regarded Ben. "And you as well, Master Skywalker. When I asked you to assist with this matter, I could not have imagined the task bringing danger to your family."

"The Force was with us," Ben said. "It was an honor to serve."

The Duros then turned to Kyle Katarn. "And I must say, Master Katarn, how surprised I was to see you a part of this. The last time we met, I believe your exact words to me were 'Vong would use droids before you see me again.' And yet, the Yuuzhan Vong still deplore droids, and here you are."

Kyle merely nodded his head. "What we want, and what we need are often different things, Minister Braan. As my friend said, it is an honor to serve."

The Duros, who Harry now realized was one of the Triumvirate ministers who served as the executive branch of the Alliance government, smiled calmly at the equally calm Katarn. "And you found another Padawan."

"He found me, Minister," Kyle said. "And it has been my honor to guide him to the Force. As you can see, he has already played an important role."

"Indeed, he has. All of you have," the Duros said, deciding to let Kyle off the hook for whatever it was he did before Harry met him. "The Emperor himself will be granting your awards, and I will be there to witness. It is a great thing you have done. Thank you."

With that, the audience ended and the two heads of state left the small room. When they were gone, Vestara looked at Kyle and said, "What did you do to him?"

Kyle shrugged. "He was Secretary of Defense and the Jedi Liaison before Luke died. I had to tell off someone, and it was never any fun telling Luke off. He'd just smile and shrug it off."

Ben laughed. "Yeah, I can't tell you how many arguments he won with mom doing that."

Harry's stomach twisted into a tight knot that had nothing to do with nerves, or even emotions. It felt as if someone had punched him. Still, he put on a smile, struggled to calm himself with the Force, and when the aide came he walked out with the others onto a stage.

Tens of thousands of people filled an auditorium that at first looked as if it were open to the sky, until Harry saw light reflecting off a transparent dome. The moment he and his fellow Jedi appeared, thunderous applause filled the chamber. Harry felt as if he were being pummeled from the visceral power of the sound, but he managed not to stumble at all. Kol said something, but Harry couldn't hear for the din around them.

Ahead, he saw nine-year-old Anakin Solo Fel standing in rich, purple imperial robes with a ruby-encrusted circlet around his red hair. Behind him stood Allana, resplendent in a form-fitting purple and crimson dress. Harry noticed that she wore an intricate framework of gold lace and rubies in her hair, which made it sparkle as she moved her head.

He did not hear anything she said when she spoke; his ears still roared with the applause even after it ended. He knew she spoke—he could hear the sound of it, but he did not understand the words themselves.

Before he knew it, Kyle nudged him and he stood and walked to where Kol was already standing. Nik carried a heavily jeweled gold necklace and draped it around Kol's neck; Kol had to bow down for the shorter boy.

The Emperor returned to the podium to take the second heavy chain and walked to Harry, who did not have to bow down so far. Through the incredible sound of applause, the boy-ruler's voice sounded oddly clear. "You are my kin now, by proclamation and right, Harry Potter of House Fel. Should you ever need it, you will always have a home in the Empire."

"Thank you, your majesty," Harry managed to say. His smile strained as a deeper pain boiled up from not just his stomach, but behind his sternum. He kept his feet, though, as tens of thousands of sentient beings rose to their feet to applaud the two young heroes who saved their Emperor's life.

Finally the presentation came to an end. A strong hand fell on Harry's shoulder and he looked up at Kyle's concerned face. "I sense something is wrong, Harry. Describe it."

"Pain in my stomach and chest, Kyle." He did not mention the dream he had been fighting all day to forget. "But I'll be okay. I don't sense anything physically wrong, so it must be nerves."

"If it gets worse, tell me," Kyle said in a flat, brook-no-dissention voice.

"I will."

The two joined the Duros minister and several high-ranking members of the Imperial Moff College for a reception and luncheon after the presentation. Ordinarily such a function would be a dinner that would run until the early hours of the morning, but given the ages of the honorees, it was served as a lunch instead.

Harry and Kol both sat at the head table next to Anakin, and Harry knew it was a huge honor and a testament that the Emperor thought of them not just as heroes, but as friends and kin. The fact that he and Kol were actual cousins did nothing to dispel the honor the seating represented.

Harry gritted his teeth and sat through almost an hour of toasts before food was served. Hoping the pain in his middle was just hunger, he started to reach for his cup when the pain in his stomach spiked. A snippet of blue light arced like lightening from his finger to the Ithorian crystal glass, and the cup's stem split into two crystal legs and started running down the length of the table to the shock of two moffs and an Alliance admiral.

"What the krif was that?" Kol said, momentarily forgetting his language.

Harry looked at his friend in dismay. "I didn't mean to!"

Suddenly what had been a dull ache turned into a blazing agony, like a steel-coated fist slamming into his stomach while on fire. The agony pushed him back from the table; inexplicably his plate caught fire, erupting in a column of white flame that ended with the plate and the salad on it reduced to ash.

Harry fell from his chair, clutching his stomach while guards jumped in between him and the startled Emperor. Kol ignored them and ran to Harry's side. "Harry, what's wrong?"

Before he could answer, Harry felt the constricting feeling in his gut and in the blink of an eye he was no longer on the floor by the table, but teen feet off the carpeted floor in the center of the space created by the U-shaped alignment of tables. He heard worried shouts as he fell, only to be caught in the firm grip of the Force.

To his relief, Kyle vaulted his table and started rushing to his side even as he lowered him to the ground. Harry curled up into a fetal ball as the pain increased so bad any hope of controlling it with the Force was lost, and he reared his head back and screamed.

He could not see it, but the walls around him suddenly turned green. Every dish on every table flamed into ash, while all the goblets jumped to their crystal feet and started running back and forth as if they were alive. Dignitaries scrambled for safety from the midst of chaos, certain they were under attack.

Kyle's grip was firm as he bundled Harry into his arms. It was the last thing he remembered before passing out.

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

"I don't understand how it's even possible. We've had reports of goblets running out of the palace into the city proper, and facilities has reported that any paint applied to the walls turns green instantly. They cannot find any reason for it."

The voice was strong, feminine and beautiful.

"Allana, it's a power native to the boy's planet." Kyle, then. Kyle and the Empress Regent were talking.

"I've never even heard of this Earth. Has it even been charted?"

"It's deep in the Unknown Regions, and I went there precisely because it was not charted," Kyle said dryly. "The world is a century away from any space travel, at least. They have a small subspecies of humans who are able to manipulate the Force in ways no Jedi or Sith have ever been able to, or at least not since antiquity. I studied them enough to suspect it was a different evolutionary branch of Force-users. They found a means of focusing their power, whereas the proto-Jedi used ways of enhancing themselves to use the power."

"To give life to inanimate objects?" Allana demanded. "Derdi, my primary HRD, came into my chambers crying. A droid was weeping, Kyle, with real tears. Somehow she was human, truly human. It only lasted an hour, but for that hour she was a living, breathing, feeling human being. How can any being do something like that?"

"I don't have an answer, Allana," Kyle said. "It's just how the Force expressed itself through his people. He didn't mean to disrupt anything—I sensed he was in pain from the moment he woke this morning. And if he stops pretending to be asleep, perhaps he can give us some information about what's happening."

Harry opened his eyes, fully aware that the pain remained, though not as intense as at lunch. "I'm sorry," he said, surprised at how hoarse his voice sounded.

"Don't be sorry, be detailed," Kyle said brusquely, even as he handed Harry a glass of water and gently helped him sit up to drink it.

"I had a dream last night," Harry said. "Master Luke was in it, and that old wizard, Dumbledore. He was playing a strange type of dejarik with a shadow that had red eyes. The pieces on the board were people and monsters. I was on the board, Kyle. There was a piece there that had my face."

"What happened?"

Harry described the game and Dumbledore's intentional sacrifice of Harry, and then echoed Master Luke's words.

"What does that mean?" Allana asked.

"It means exactly what Luke said," Kyle said. "Luke's already appeared to the boy—one subject of prophecy to another. It's time for us to return to Earth. Harry has a heavy destiny—there is a true prophecy concerning him and a Sith-like dark lord there."

"Is there anything we can do to help?" Allana asked. "We could dispatch a star destroyer to assist with this dark lord."

Kyle smirked. "As tempting as that is, it would do more harm than good. The planet appears to be xenophobic, not just of aliens, but most likely of Harry's subspecies as well. If they were exposed, there could be repercussions. We'll go alone."

To Harry's surprise, Allana hugged the grouchy old Jedi before kissing him square on the mouth. "I missed you, Kyle."

"I know, Allana. But what you're doing here is _important_ , perhaps more so than anything any of us have ever done. You're creating a dynasty with a constitutional framework to keep it honest for many generations. I couldn't help you there, and I'm too old anyway."

"You aren't that old," Allana said. "Most humans can make it to two hundred if they take care of themselves."

"And haven't been beaten, shot, burned and stabbed as many times as I have," Kyle said. "Take care of your son, Allana. Take care of your Empire. I'll take care of my padawan."

Allana nodded, and then turned to Harry. To his surprise, the aloof-seeming woman hugged him as well and kissed his cheek. "Thank you for saving my son," she said to him. She released him and left the room.

"We need to leave immediately," Kyle said. "That was almost certainly a Force vision you had, and we need to contact Dumbledore to find out what the hell is happening down there."

"Yes, Kyle."

"Can you walk?"

Harry nodded and gingerly let his legs slide from the table to the floor. The pain in his stomach lessoned, but was still there. Before he could take a step, the door opened and Kol rushed in, followed more sedately by Ben Skywalker. "Stang, Harry, are you okay?"

"Yeah, mostly."

"Ben, I need to get him back to his homeworld," Kyle said.

"A message from the Force?" the Grandmaster said.

"You're dad told him to go home," Kyle said with a shrug.

Ben accepted it easily. "Then it's time for him to go. Your ship is already fueled and provisioned. How long to return him?"

"From Imperial space, only a few days," Kyle said. "Truth is, we stayed longer than either of us anticipated. It was…it was a good trip. For both of us."

Ben smiled and took the old Jedi's hand. "It was wonderful to have you back, even if only for a while. When will you return?"

Kyle looked back at Harry, then to Ben. "I don't know, Ben. It was always my intent to retire to Earth permanently."

"Then it has been my greatest honor to have known you, my friend," Ben said simply, before pulling Kyle into a long, warm hug. "Take care of yourself."

"I always do."

"Wait, you're leaving?" Kol said, staring from Kyle to Harry. "Just like that, you're leaving?"

"I'm sorry, I have to," Harry said.

"Why?"

Harry placed a hand on his stomach. "I…I think something very bad will happen to me if I don't return. But…" He suddenly found it hard to speak. "You're the best friend I've ever had."

Kol looked as if he were about to say something when Harry's simple statement brought him up short. "You too, I guess," he said. "Krif," he muttered, wiping at his eye. He then pulled Harry into a hug. "If you can, come back. You and me, we're a team, and we're not done yet."

"Skywalker and Potter," Harry said, fighting back an urge to cry. "Hey, Kol. Remember. _Emotion_."

" _Yet peace_ ," Kol said, sniffing. "Take care of yourself, Harry. And don't you dare forget me."

"How could I?"

And with that, the two friends parted ways.


	9. The Prodigal Son

Happy New Year. Chap 8 review responses for in my forums as normal. Thank you all for reading.

* * *

 **Chapter Nine: The Prodigal Son**

Kyle Katarn crossed the road. No one has ever dared question his motives.

It was a quiet, somber trip back to Earth. It shocked Harry to realize it had been four years since he last set foot on the world of his birth. He didn't even really think of himself as an Earthling anymore, not really. He considered himself first and foremost a Jedi Padawan, and he was happy with that. He left Earth as a boy not much older than Nik, and he was returning as a padawan already past his first trials. He left with only the barest grasp of the galaxy at large; he was returning as an honorary member of the Imperial family and a hero.

Still, he did not feel like a hero. Instead, he felt an overwhelming sense of fear. How could anything make him sick from a quarter of a galaxy away? How could that even be possible? Somehow, something happened that hurt him in a way he'd never felt before and it frightened him.

On the second day of their passage, Kyle had Harry practicing moving meditation, when out of the blue, he said, "So, after watching those videos of Nik's, do you have any questions about sex?"

The question was so completely unexpected it disrupted Harry's meditation, and instead of doing a graceful somersault, he slammed into a wall. Kyle stared at him flatly, though Harry was sure his master was laughing on the inside.

With effort, Harry picked himself up and said, "No, not really."

Kyle lifted one brow, and Harry sighed. "Fine. What's it like?"

"It's a pleasant diversion, so long as you don't let it take over your life," Kyle said. "I'm a hundred years old; I don't quite have the drive of my youth, of course."

"Could have fooled me," Harry said.

Kyle shrugged. "Like I said, I don't have the drive of my youth."

 _Meaning he was worse when he was young_ , Harry translated. "Do I have to do it?"

Kyle snorted. "No. But you'll want to. You want to now—I caught how you ogled Allana. She did too, but thought it was cute. No comment on Tann"

With a moan, Harry covered his face.

"The trick to scanning a beautiful woman is to not let her know you're doing it," Kyle continued as if he had not just crushed Harry's teen-age soul. "You're a Jedi, Harry. Use your mnemonic drills. Glance at her and store it in your mind, but while you're around her look her in the eyes. Never, ever scan a woman where she can see you doing it. It's insulting and dehumanizing, unless she's a Zeltron. If she's a Zeltron, it'll turn her on and you'll probably go at it like frenzied wild nerfs. Zeltrons love Force-sensitives for some reason. But you won't see many Zeltrons on Earth, I'd think."

Harry nodded, and for the next hour Kyle spoke about the dos-and-don'ts when it came to girls. It was an astonishingly practical discussion, from contraceptives and Jedi techniques used to both reduce the odds of conception and increase the pleasure of an orgasm, to ways of determining compatibility. "Of course, you can still have fun with a woman who isn't fully compatible with you. Sex does not require love, but it does require respect. Remember that, and you'll do fine."

"So…so you're not telling me to wait until marriage or anything like that?"

"I didn't," Kyle said bluntly. "In many cultures, marriage as you know it does not exist. There are social contracts to conceive and raise children, but a binary marriage is not the end-all-be-all of relationships even among humanocentric cultures. Just make sure your partner is willing and ready, and take the necessary precautions to ensure you don't conceive until you're ready."

"What if I do want to marry?"

"Then marry, but only when you're truly ready," Kyle said. "That is one thing I would recommend waiting on. Young marriages rarely remain happy marriages because the couples are themselves still growing as people. Wait until you've developed enough to know for sure that you and your partner are compatible. However, there is one thing you must always remember. Love can turn to hate in the blink of an eye, and hate leads to the Dark Side. Don't give your heart to anyone until you have truly meditated on it, and are sure. And if it doesn't work out, walk away. Do not dwell on it, and don't let the pain of loss drive you to despair."

Harry nodded, thankful for the blunt advice. In the course of the discussion, he realized… "Kyle, the pain is gone."

"I thought it might go away. We've decided to return to your planet. From what I was able to learn about this magic of yours, much of it is actually intent-driven. Because we intend to return, the pain recedes. We just need to find out what in the stars we're returning to. Now, let's continue your meditation, shall we?"

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

Kyle drove his Toyota out of the _Preening Crow_ with a satisfied nod that it still functioned. Once it was out of the way, Harry was able to help Kyle levitate the crates out of the hold before Kyle sent the ship back into space, where it would land on the moon under a cloaking shield with only its periscope exposed until Kyle summoned it again.

They left the four large crates from the _Crow_ in the parking lot, just like they found them four years past. Harry climbed into the Toyota, surprised at how small it seemed from when he last rode in it, and they drove out of the parking lot just as they drove in years ago.

When they reached their old bungalow, Kyle stared with a flat expression at the burned out structure. Nothing was left but the foundation of the home and a weed-choked garden. "Hmmm," Kyle said. "Well, whoever your enemies were, they already knew where we were, so this isn't as much of a surprise as you might think. We'll rent a room for the night and then see about finding Dumbledore."

Kyle put the Toyota back into gear and started to drive away from the curb when a young woman with bright pink hair appeared with a pop directly in front of the vehicle. Even with the Force, Kyle barely managed to stop before running her over. The truck came to a squealing halt so close the woman caught the hood with her hands and stared into the window with a gaping jaw and fear-widened eyes.

"Stay here," Kyle told Harry as he slipped out of the truck, lightsaber in hand. Harry merely nodded and watched as the young woman backed up a step from Kyle, both hands held up in surrender. As she did so, she looked continually from Kyle to the windshield, behind which sat a patient Harry.

"You're him, you're really _him_ ," she said finally, gushing out her awe.

"Are you with Dumbledore, or do I have to kill you now?" Kyle asked.

"What…oh, OH! I'm with Dumbledore! Please don't kick my head."

Harry couldn't help it; he snickered. The girl looked at him before smiling faintly. "Er, my name is Tonks. We had a detection ward up on this house after you disappeared, just in case you ever came back. Professor Dumbledore said I had to be careful, though, because you liked kicking people in the heads."

"I don't like to, but it is necessary occasionally," Kyle said. "Tonks, huh? What happened here?"

"Death Eaters burned the place down right after you disappeared. Is that…is that really Harry Potter in there?"

"Yeah. Get in. Harry, backseat."

Harry opened the door and climbed into the back. Tonks looked at the vehicle cautiously before getting in. "It stinks in here," she said. She removed a stick, twirled it about, and suddenly all the musty smell from several years of storage was gone, leaving the vehicle smelling surprisingly clean.

Kyle didn't even bat an eye. "So, where are we supposed to go now?"

"London," Tonks said. "Er, I have a portkey that could get us there in a second."

"No thanks. Sick back and relax, it'll be a while."

"Do you want me to drive, Kyle?" Harry asked.

Tonks looked back at Harry and paled. "You're too young to drive."

Kyle snorted. "Sure, kid. I could use a rest."

To Tonks' dismay, Harry and Kyle switched places. Driving the Toyota was nothing compared to flying swoop bikes, and the few adjustments it took for Harry to learn the clutch only served to make Tonks more nervous, which was exactly what Kyle intended.

"How do you even know which way to go?" Tonks demanded.

Harry shrugged. "Southeast."

"So, Tonks," Kyle said smoothly while looking the woman in the eyes. "Tell me about yourself."

Harry rolled his eyes as Tonks found herself stuttering out her entire life story before the ancient, powerful Jedi. Kyle asked specific questions to aid her, and in the air Harry felt tendrils of the Force—not enough to make Tonks betray any trusts, but enough to make her want to trust Kyle. With that subtle persuasion, they learned a great deal about the state of the Magical World.

They learned that a teacher died three years ago, and two years ago a student died. "Did she have red hair?" Harry asked suddenly, remembering the visions he had during his trial.

Tonks turned and stared at him. "Yeah, Ginny Weasley. All the Weasleys are red heads. How did you know?"

"A ghost told me," Harry said.

"Oh, that's makes sense, I suppose," Tonks said, not batting an eye at the idea of a ghost. She then started talking about the previous year and the adventures of Sirius Black.

"He's actually my cousin, Harry, and it turns out he was innocent all along," she said, still gushing out words as if she were a leaking tank. "He and Professor Lupin managed to capture the person who really betrayed your parents, and they all went together to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. I was still in the academy, so I missed it, but Amelia Bones herself rescinded the Minister's orders, and you should have seen the firestorm that followed. Minister Fudge had a huge black mark, and there's even talk of him losing office over it. Anyway, Sirius got freed and he's been wanting to meet you for years, now."

"Why?"

"Well, he's your godfather."

"My what?" Harry asked.

Tonks blinked, taken aback that Harry didn't understand the term. "He's your godfather. James and Lily Potter asked him to look after you if anything happened to them."

"He did a bang up job," Kyle said. "I am Harry's guardian, and I will determine whether Mr. Black needs to see him or not. Harry, time to switch."

"Yes, Kyle."

Tonks herself blinked in surprise to see they were already on the outskirts of London, and that the sun was rising ahead of them. "Cor, we've been driving all night."

"Only about four hours," Harry said. "We got back around three local time last night." He pulled into a petrol station and climbed out to fill up the tank while Kyle walked to the nearest payphone. Tonks stepped out, yawned and stretched.

"So, Harry, where were you all these years?"

"Training with Kyle," Harry said. "Didn't Dumbledore tell you?"

"Well, he said you were just gone, he never said where."

Harry began the pump when Kyle finished his call and stepped into the store portion to pay for the petrol. "So?" Tonks asked again. "Where were you?"

"Like I said, training with Kyle," Harry said. "During the drive you said you were an auror, is that like a police officer?"

"More like Special Service. We go after the dark wizards and other bigger threats. Hitwizards take care of the minor stuff. It's hard work, but it's nice to know we're making a difference."

Without looking at Kyle, he said, "Tell me about Ginny Weasley."

Tonks shrugged, though he noticed her frown at the memory. "Not much to tell, really. She was the only daughter of Arthur and Molly Weasley. I know Arthur from work. They have six other kids—all boys. I never knew her, but I knew her brother Charlie, and he said she was a brat, and that he loved her to death. It's a shame, and it almost cost Dumbledore his position at the school. It wasn't until he took the Governors down into the Chamber of Secrets to see for themselves what was happening that he convinced them of the truth. That was another black eye for Fudge, when Dumbledore was able to link Ginny's death to Lucius Malfoy, one of Fudge's biggest monetary supporters."

Harry nodded, listening sadly as he finished fueling the Toyota. Even when he asked about her directly, Ginny Weasley, the girl he watched die in his visions, only warranted a few brief sentences. She was just one more casualty.

Kyle returned carrying a cardboard tray of drinks. He handed one to a thankful Tonks, one to Harry, and took the last two for himself. "Alright, Tonks, direct us from here."

With London morning rush hour, it took almost as long to reach their destination as it did for them to reach the city itself, but eventually Tonks told them to find a spot and Kyle slid into the first parking slot available.

He started feed the meter when Tonks stopped him and again brandished her wand. "I put a 'Notice-me-not' charm on it," she said when the three climbed out. "No one will see it."

"Which won't do anyone any good if someone else tries to park there," Kyle pointed out.

"They won't even notice the space," Tonks said with an almost puppy-dog like earnestness. "Trust me, my dad has an auto and does it all the time."

She looked around the small square they found themselves, and then led them across a block-sized park lined in trees with an open lawn in the middle until they reached the far side of the square. She reached into her strange, knee-length open jacket and removed a wad of what looked like parchment.

"You have to read this," she said, handing the parchment to Kyle, and after he read, to Harry.

The moment Harry read the note about where the Order of the Phoenix was located, he felt a shift in the Force, and suddenly before them he saw a home that had not been there mere moments before.

"Impressive," Kyle said grudgingly.

Tonks grinned and led them across the street and into the home. The interior was darkened, and just a few feet in Tonks tripped over something and cursed.

"Who's there?" a harsh, angry voice demanded. "More mudbloods and traitors in my home? Who are you, you trash?"

"Merlin's beard, I hate that woman," Tonks muttered.

As they came further into the home, Harry saw with surprise that the angry voice was that of an older woman in a portrait! There was no feeling of life within her, and yet she moved and spoke. In a way, she reminded him of an HRD—a simulacrum of life without the life itself.

"Shut up, woman!" a man's voice rang down the stairs. Moments later the man himself came into view, quickly tying what looked like a bathrobe on. "Tonks, is that you? What are you doing here?"

"I'm here, Sirius," she said. "I found them! They came back."

"What are you on…" The man Tonks called Sirius froze at the first landing of the stairs, staring gap-jawed at Harry. He took one step down, and stammering, said, "H..Ha….Harry? Harry, is that really you?"

"I'm Harry," Harry said cautiously.

Sirius sprang forward, arms outreached, only to fly back to the landing where he landed squarely on his bum. He looked in confusion at Kyle, sensing that's where the blow came from. "What…?"

"Sirius Black, I presume?" Kyle said.

Dumbly, Sirius nodded.

"My name is Kyle Katarn. I am Harry's master and guardian. And I will decide when and if he needs a relationship with you, do you understand?"

"Master?" Sirius snapped, his confusion going over quickly to anger. "Harry's no slave!" He began scrambling for a wand within his robe, but the moment he found it, it sped from his hand into Kyle's.

"He is not a slave, he is a bonded apprentice of mine," Kyle said with the immovable calm of a granite mountain. "He's my responsibility. Whatever attachment you may think you have to him, you need to remember he's never seen you before."

"I was the first person to hold him after James and his mum!" Sirius snapped angrily. "The blighter pissed my beard!"

"And I'm sure you deserved it," Kyle said. "Regardless, instead of taking care of him, you had yourself thrown in jail. So now I take care of him. Remember that, Mr. Black, or we will have a problem."

Sirius picked himself back up and said, "Think you're a big man, there, do you? Drop that wand, and we'll see just… _oomph._ "

Harry sighed, while Tonks stared wide-eyed. "You really do like kicking people in the head."

"It gets my point across," Kyle said tersely as he stared at the rattled, collapsed Sirius Black.

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

Eventually, Sirius calmed down long enough for Tonks to put an icepack on the side of his head in the kitchen. She began shuffling about for food in the cold box after tending him. Most of what she produced appeared to be left-overs, but with toast and fruit, they had a passable breakfast.

Sirius ate in sullen silence, glaring at Kyle and looking longingly at Harry. It made the padawan faintly uncomfortable. Not ten minutes into their terse meal, Harry saw a flash of light from down the hall, and moments later Albus Dumbledore walked into the kitchen.

He took one look at Harry and Kyle and smiled brilliantly. "It's true, you've returned! How splendid!"

"Not much of a choice," Kyle said. "He was attacked by something that made his power go haywire. He was making crystal goblets come to life, and turned a droid human for an hour. He was in pain as well, until we decided to return. So, mind telling us what happened?"

Dumbledore took a seat at the table and examined Harry closely. "My school is hosting a special tournament this year—the first in hundreds of years. It was a ploy by our Minister of Magic to try and divert attention from his failings, sadly, but I decided to allow it as it did have the possibility of bringing three great schools together. Candidates are chosen by an ancient, powerful artifact to participate in three tasks. The first task is in little over a month. But, you see, somehow someone confounded the Goblet of Fire to select Harry as a contestant."

"How, I wasn't even there?"

"We believe that someone managed to obtain one of Harry's hairs from your home, prior to burning it," Dumbledore said. "They were able to create a simulacrum employing the Law of Contagion, one of the basic principles of Magic, but one which is rarely employed in Western Magic. In essence, they tricked the Goblet using a powerful confundus and a voodoo doll of Harry to force his selection."

Harry blinked in surprise. "And that's what made me so sick?"

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "The Goblet compels participation of those selected, and there are terrible consequences to those who do not comply. The Goblet as an artifact cannot be reasoned with and it is merciless—there are tales of participants wishing to drop out after a task instead dropping dead where they stood. Even if we discovered precisely who managed to confound the goblet, it would not release you. If you had not returned, you would have lost your magic, and possibly your life as well."

Harry listened to the words, but thought about his dream. It was not the red-eyed shadow who moved his piece into position to be sacrificed, it was Dumbledore himself.

"What is Harry's position within the contest?" Kyle demanded flatly. Harry realized his master knew Dumbledore was not telling the whole truth either.

"There can be only one contestant per school, so whoever entered Harry entered him under a fourth, unnamed school."

Kyle rubbed his well-trimmed, iron-gray beard. "And these schools, how are they attending the tournament?"

"A party of eligible students arrived with the headmaster or headmistress of each school. The Beauxbaton students, for instance, are staying with Ravenclaw House. However, the students of Durmstrang remain on their ship near the castle."

Kyle leaned back in his seat and regarded Dumbledore carefully, while around the table Sirius Black and Tonks squirmed in the tense silence. After two whole minutes of this silence that seemed to stretch on forever, Kyle said: "I knew a man like yourself once—powerful and talented. He loved without measure and was willing to sacrifice anything for what he saw as the greater good."

"Sounds like a good man," Sirius said.

"He lost a sibling during a terrible war, and started to think of the greater good without regard to the needs of those around him. He went on to pull apart his government and led it into a war that cost the lives of billions, while he personally fell into the depths of despair and darkness. He murdered friends and family, including one of my dearest friends. He died Sith—a dark lord as fearsome as your Voldemort—at the hands of his own twin sister."

Sirius stiffened and Tonks looked confusedly from Kyle to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore met the old Jedi's gaze squarely. "And do you think I am a dark lord, Master Katarn?"

"I think either you entered Harry into this tournament, or allowed a pawn to enter him, to get him back on this planet," Kyle said.

Tonks looked to Sirius and mouthed the word " _Planet_?" silently.

"I would never endanger Harry like that," Dumbledore protested.

"I had a vision," Harry said, breaking the tension. "In the Force. You were playing a game with a shadow who had red eyes. And the pieces on the board had faces. I see now Mr. Black was one, and Tonks. And I was a piece too, and you moved me as a sacrifice. You said it was necessary."

"You're lying, Dumbledore," Kyle said in a flat tone. "You might be able to fool your sycophants, but not me. I've dealt with men who committed evil in the name of good. Some of them were genuinely good men, but that did not negate the evil they did. Why did you enter Harry into that tournament?"

"You are not master, here, Kyle Katarn," Dumbledore said, his smile fading into a stern frown.

"I am Harry's master," Kyle said. "Like I told you years ago, no lies. If you want Harry, tell me the truth, or we walk out."

"You would condemn Harry to death?"

"Isn't that what you're doing already?" Kyle snapped back. "You can't lie to me. Trying just makes me want to kick you in the head. Last chance…why did you enter Harry's name into this goblet?"

Dumbledore sat in silence for some time, regarding Kyle and his padawan while Tonks stared on with a gaping jaw. Finally, coming to a decision, Dumbledore said, "I did not enter his name, but I know who did."

"And you facilitated his efforts," Kyle said.

"I did not stop him."

"Why?"

"To spring the trap being set," Dumbledore finally admitted. "Voldemort has returned, at least partially. He is searching for a means of restoring his body. There are several he might pursue, but at least three of them require his blood enemy. Harry is that blood enemy. It is my hope that Voldemort will expose himself in the attempt to get Harry, and open himself to attack, or at the very least alert the public to his existence so we can mobilize a broader response. The greatest weakness from the conflict with Voldemort initially was the failure of the public to defend themselves. As a result, hundreds died who might otherwise have lived."

Tonks looked ill, and Black was staring daggers at the old wizard. Kyle simply stared, his craggy, age-lined face blank. "What's done is done," Kyle finally said. "We go forward. Harry will represent the Jedi Praxeum, I am his headmaster. You will provide housing for us within the castle together—a two room suite would be preferable. You will provide a list of any items needed. And if you ever intentionally place my padawan in danger again I will kill you, even if I have to board my ship and vaporize your school from orbit. Do you understand?"

The air was so thick it was hard for Harry to breathe. He watched as Dumbledore seemed to grow before his eyes, as if swelling with his magic. Kyle, though, sat strong and steady like a mountain against the clouds.

Dumbledore finally assented. "Agreed. We will be much more effective working together than apart. I do regret the necessity of my actions, but I cannot say I would do any different. It was time for Harry to come home, and this was the only way to accomplish the task. Tonks will see you have the supplies you need, and a place will be made ready for you. In two days' time, I shall expect you both at Hogwarts. Good day."

Without another word, Dumbledore stood and left the kitchen. When he was gone, Sirius Black said, "That son of a bitch."


	10. Coming Home for the First Time

A/N: Chap 9 review responses are in my forums as normal. If I missed a question or comment, feel free to post those questions or comments in the forum and I'll eventually respond. Thanks for reading!

* * *

 **Chapter Ten: Coming Home For the First Time**

If you have 500 credits and Kyle has 500 credits,

Kyle still has more credits than you.

The only person who hated shopping more than Harry was Kyle. Having to go shopping with a young, perky woman with pink hair just made it more irritating for the elder Jedi master. Harry, however, did not mind that part of the trip quite as much.

Tonks tended to bounce about, and it had fascinating effects on her anatomy that Harry, a healthy fourteen-year-old boy, could not help but notice. He did work hard to employ Kyle's advice, though, and fought with all his might not to simply stare. Their first stop of course was Gringotts Bank, where Harry discovered he already had a great deal of money.

"We don't care about riding the carts," Kyle said when Tonks started talking to the goblin teller. "We just want a withdrawal."

"Personal withdrawals have no fee," the Goblin said with a sneer. "Teller withdrawals charge a twenty percent administration fee."

Kyle stared at the goblin a moment before saying, "Bantha crap. One percent, no more, or I'll kick you so hard your grandsons will feel it."

"You are foolish to threaten a goblin within Gringotts, human! I shall charge no less than fifteen percent!"

"One point five, you hairy little rat-faced bastard."

"How dare you! Your mother was a whore to trolls, your father a bastard without honor! Ten percent!"

By the time they were done, a squad of five goblins had surrounded their teller, and they huddled together between each round of insults, until they agreed that all goblins were the unholy union of a hairless cat and a dwarven cow, and Kyle's parents were both shit-covered apes from Borneo, and Harry would pay a three point five percent fee on all teller-based withdrawals from that point forward.

Tonks stood the whole time with wide-eyes and pale skin, as if she expected open battle in the halls. She didn't get why the goblins hadn't attacked, but Harry did. While the little beasts looked fierce, in the force he could feel their genuine enjoyment of the bartering. He was still paying far more than a normal bank, but probably a lot less than most wizards for the same service.

After that, Kyle marched them through a fast tour of the Alley, not dawdling a second, until at last they went to Ollivander's for Harry's wand. A man who made Kyle look young glanced up from his counter in surprise when the party of three came in. "Harry Potter," the old wizard said at first glance. "You're late."

Harry shrugged. "I had other things to do."

"Indeed. Well, you're here now, so let's get to it, shall we?"

Kyle watched with muted interest as Ollivander plied Harry with wand after wand, receiving no response, until at the last he tried holly and phoenix feather with a spectacular shower of sparks. He started to say something about the wand when Tonks said, "Keep in mind, Harry, there are restrictions about under age magic, so don't go casting spells out of school until you're seventeen."

"Or what?" Kyle asked.

His abrupt tone made Tonks blink and stumble over her words for a moment. "Or the Ministry will detect it and he'll receive a warning, or worse."

"How will they detect it?"

"With the Trace. All magical children have it."

Kyle straightened up from the wall he leaned against and walked to the counter. "How is this trace administered? I assure you Harry did not have anything prior to coming here."

"As you have surmised, sir, the trace is given to the child with his or her wand," Ollivander said, blinking rheumy eyes at the Jedi. "Under age magic is a legitimate concern, I assure you."

"Remove it," Kyle said. "I won't tolerate anything on my apprentice that can be used to trace his location."

"I'm afraid that's quite impossible," Ollivander said. "The law is quite…"

"Put the wand down, Harry. We're leaving. I know of a Nexus in the Force that might be able to negate the effects of Dumbledore's meddling."

"Yes, Kyle," Harry said simply, with absolute faith in his master.

"What are you talking about?" Tonks said, stuttering. "Harry's needed here!"

"Too bad," Kyle said. "I value the well-being of my padawan above the well-being of your little community. If you insist on being able to trace him, then we leave."

Desperate, Tonks said, "Please, just wait! Please! Let me just…let me just…"

"Perhaps, Auror Tonks, you should share this gentleman's concern with your superiors at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," Ollivander said with a knowing smile.

"Yes, that's it!" Tonks said. "I'll be right back!" She disappeared with a pop.

"She is a most excitable young woman, but her heart is in the right place," Ollivander said. "I do not know you, sir. My name is Gerrick Ollivander."

"Kyle Katarn."

Ollivander nodded. "A powerful name, for a powerful man, I sense. And you are Mr. Potter's guardian?"

Kyle nodded.

Ollivander walked slowly around the counter. "Before young Nymphadora interrupted, I was trying to impart something of importance regarding Mr. Potter's wand. You see, the phoenix that provided the feather in its core provided only one other—to the one wielded by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"You mean Voldemort?" Harry asked.

"Oh, we do not say his name, Mr. Potter," Ollivander said. "Before his last encounter with you when you were but a babe, he cast a taboo that would allow him to find anyone who dared speak his name. While it is true the average wizard may not be as practical as their Muggle cousins, we are not completely without reason. We fear his name because he _made_ us fear it."

The old wizard lifted a lock of Harry's hair to reveal the scar. "And that, Mr. Potter, is no ordinary scar. It links you to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in a deeply personal, and dangerous manner."

"And how would you know that, Ollivander?" Kyle asked.

The wizard smiled sadly. "I am a wandsmith, Mr. Katarn. I've been so for over a century, and in that time I have developed feelings for magic that few others have. That wand chose Harry because something of his magic resembled the magic of its brother wand's master. There is something of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named within Mr. Potter, something of his magic. I cannot tell you whether it is good or ill, but it is there regardless."

Following a trio of pops, the door to the shop opened to admit three new figures. Tonks returned accompanied a tall, bald-headed black man Harry and Kyle both recognized from when Dumbledore first attacked them. The third was a woman in her forties in thickly-layered, bright red robes. She had sandy-colored, shoulder-length hair, a strong chin and a monocle hanging from a necklace.

She took only a quick look at Harry before turning her attention to Kyle. "Who are you?" she demanded.

"General Kyle Katarn, retired, New Republic Defense Forces, and Jedi Masteer. Who are you?"

"Amelia Bones, Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

Harry wasn't sure if they were going to hit each other, or start snogging passionately, such was the tension between them.

"Do you mind explaining how you came to be in possession of Mr. Potter?" Bones said.

"His family did not want him, so I took him in," Kyle said with a shrug. "I am legally appointed his guardian in the Muggle government with the appropriate forms signed by his former family."

"Yes, about that," Amelia said, "I maintain close ties with my counterparts in the Muggle World, and there is no record of you ever petitioning to receive guardianship. In fact, it appears the records were…what's the word, Tonks?"

"Hacked, ma'am."

"The records were hacked," Bones said, with a nod of thanks. "Which implies that you did not have legal authority to take him, whether Harry's relatives agreed or not. So, I once again ask who you came to be in possession of Mr. Potter?"

Kyle narrowed his eyes and examined the three. "Dumbledore," he said softly. "Interesting. Very well, Madam. I came into possession of Mr. Potter after witnessing him being abused by his family. Afterward, I had a discussion with his relatives who stated they had no desire to have him. Following the traditions of my Order, I accepted Harry as an apprentice. He has been my apprentice for some time, and has been fully accepted and vested by the Jedi Order as a padawan learner."

"None of that is legally binding in the Wizarding World, Mr. Katarn," Bones said.

"Then I suppose we will leave the Wizarding World after all, Madam Bones," Kyle replied with a smile.

"There is nowhere on this Earth you could go where we could not find you," Bones said with a narrowed eye.

Kyle leaned forward, and whispered _sotto voce_ , "What makes you think we'll stay on this world? Harry and I were nine thousand light years away when Dumbledore managed to slip Harry's name into that goblet of yours. Do you understand what that means, Madam Bones? The light from the star Harry and I were standing under just days ago will not even reach your world for another nine thousand years, if it reaches it at all. We are not bound to this world, and if you and Dumbledore continue to put my padawan in danger, we will leave and let you deal with your dark lord problem on your own. Remove his damned trace now!"

Bones narrowed her eyes and blushed in obvious anger. "You are making a powerful enemy, Mr. Katarn."

"I am not interested in making enemies, only in protecting my apprentice," Kyle told her plainly. "He has a heavy enough destiny as it is without having to worry about the adults who should be protecting him instead going out of their way to place him in harm's way. Dumbledore admitted he allowed Harry's name to be entered into that blasted tournament, knowing it was placing the boy in danger. If you have questions, take them to Dumbledore. But in the meantime, remove the trace, or we leave."

"Boss…" the black man began.

Amelia waived him off. "He's telling the truth, Kingsley. I can see it in his eyes. And we both know Albus is no angel."

"The light side can be as cruel and destructive as the dark," Kyle said.

"And which are you, Mr. Katarn?" Bones demanded.

"I'm a weapon of the light, Madam Bones," Kyle said with an eloquent shrug. "The Jedi serve what you call magic directly through an aspect of it we call the Force. It guides our actions and motivations, and it can be as cold and cruel as the darkest of enemies. I will not hesitate to remove Dumbledore's head if he continues to endanger Harry, just as I would not hesitate to kill any of you for doing the same. However, I would just as soon not have to harm anyone if I can avoid it. And one way to avoid it is to ensure potential enemies cannot use your Trace to locate Harry. We've already been attacked by wizards once."

Bones pursed her lips while behind her Kingsley looked dismayed and Tonks looked confused and pensive. "Fine," she said at last. She took her wand and began chanting in a language neither Harry nor Kyle understood, and finally touched the wand to Harry's head.

Harry felt an odd sense of wind despite the still air, and the feeling that something light had blown off. "I felt it, Kyle," he told his master. "It's gone."

"I sense it as well," Kyle said. To Amelia, he nodded. "Thank you."

"Tonks, Kingsley, please return to the office."

"But…I was supposed to…" Tonks began.

"You can play with your little club later, Nymphadora," Bones said with a hard stare.

Tonks blushed and her hair turned red, but she nodded. "Yes, Madam Bones."

Kingsley evidently knew better than to complain, and the two left. "Gerrick, thank you," Bones said to the wand maker. "Mr. Katarn, Mr. Potter, perhaps you would like to join me for lunch?"

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

It should not have surprised Harry that Kyle flirted with the head of the DMLE throughout the meal, nor that she flirted right back. It was an odd kind of flirting, thought. They exchanged a few threats just to establish their mutual turfs and then started talking about the Jedi Order and the Ministry of Magic.

The restaurant she took them too was not in Diagon Alley, which surprised Harry. It was instead a small Thai Food restaurant barely large enough for the five tables it possessed. The food, however, was delicious, and the flirting was at least bearable since both were too self-possessed to act foolish. And, Amelia Bones was not an unattractive woman by any means. Though she was older than Harry would ordinary look at, he supposed for an old person she was quite beautiful.

Eventually they came around to discussing Voldemort's first insurrection. "He laid a lot of ground work before he struck openly," Bones admitted. "And unfortunately a lot of that ground work is still there. He created a spell so evil and insidious that it almost brought down the Ministry just in and of itself—a spell called the _Imperius_ curse which suborns a witch or wizard's will to that of the castor. It could force men to slaughter their families, or betray their best friends, and they would never know. Worse yet, it was undetectable and incurable, so when the war was done and half Voldemort's followers claimed they were under the curse, we had no legitimate way to determining whether they were lying or not."

"Have you developed a way to detect is since then?" Kyle asked.

"Nothing fool-proof," Bones said. "That's the danger with mind-magic. I truly fear for the Ministry when it's impossible to tell friend from foe, especially when they might be one and the same."

"I can see the frustration," Kyle said. "I'm assuming it was Dumbledore that put you up to challenging my guardianship of Harry?"

"He might have mentioned his concerns," Bones admitted wryly. "And when Dumbledore mentions something, it generally gets our attention. It would not surprise me if he did enter Harry into the tournament."

"He facilitated the one who did," Kyle amended. "To spring a trap. My question to you, though, is where you stand?"

"I stand with the Ministry of Magic, Mr. Katarn."

"Even if the Ministry is wrong?" Kyle asked. "What would you do if you found out your Minister was under the _Imperius_? Would you still follow his orders? What if you found out Dumbledore was intentionally placing children in harm's way, would you still go along with his suggestions?"

Harry could see some of the familiarity in Bones's demeanor leave as she stiffened. "What are you suggestion, Mr. Katarn?"

"Nothing at all, other than to be mindful of the circumstances around you. You live in a small, insular community. I can easily foresee a time when your entire support network disappears. If that happens, what will you do? I don't have an answer for you, only you can answer that. But I think you're smart enough to at least ask the right questions. Such as, why was Harry placed with the family he was? What really happened thirteen years ago? What does Dumbledore know that he's not telling anyone else? And more importantly, why isn't he telling anyone else? And why is he placing so much stock on one fourteen-year-old boy? Those are good questions, Amelia, and I would like to know the answers as well."

Kyle stood, with Harry right behind. "Thank you for lunch, Madam Bones. It was delicious. Perhaps we will meet again."

"Perhaps," she said. He took her hand, and instead shaking it, he kissed her knuckles.

Harry fought not to roll his eyes. As they were leaving the restaurant, he said, "Really?"

Kyle shrugged. "I like women in uniform. And evidently they like me."

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

That night, once more in the home of Sirius Black on the eve of his first trip to Hogwarts, Harry glanced through one of his new text-books. With the help of the book-seller, Harry elected to buy the current book lists for all seven years of Hogwarts. He started with the First Year charms book—the first ten pages were actually taken up with a discussion on how to read spell diagrams. Curious, he found the same passage in the First Year Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts books.

Swishes, flicks, jabs and slashes were clearly and precisely defined. Additionally, the introduction gave a primer on the phonetic aspects of spell casting—specifically definitions of the different symbols used to advise how spells were pronounced. The writing was very basic, and Harry could see it was written for younger children.

With those clear directions, it seemed a simple thing then to point his newly purchased wand at a nearby book, perform the swish and flick as defined in the book, and say the incantation: " _Wingardium Leviosa_."

The book rose into the air exactly as the spell predicted; Harry dropped the wand in alarm and grabbed his hand. Across the room, Kyle Katarn looked up from his own reading of several back-issues of the _Daily Prophet_. His glance was the question, and Harry understood it well enough.

"It was strange, Kyle. It's like the spell pushed the Force through my hands and wand in a strange way, but…but it didn't pull the Force from around me. It's like…it's like it pulled the Force right out of my body!"

Harry spoke more loudly than normal, because at the door Sirius Black paused and stared in. "Are you okay, Harry?" he asked.

Kyle swung the chair he was using around to more directly regard Sirius Black. "You can help us. Remove your wand and perform a simple spell, please."

Nonplussed, Sirius did as he was asked and shot a color-changing spell at the wall of their room, changing it from green to red.

"Thank you, that's all we needed," Kyle said in dismissal.

Sirius opened his mouth to say something, but then changed his mind and walked away with a sad expression. "You don't have to be mean to him," Harry said when he was gone.

"I do, actually. At least at first. He has to understand that he is not the person you turn to in need. So, did you sense his magic?"

Harry nodded. "It's like the Force, but it comes from inside him."

"The native power," Kyle said. "Much like a Kiffar's psychometry. Some species have unique powers that have their basis in the Force, but express themselves differently. This magic is unlike any power I've encountered before, and yet it is still couched in Force energy. However, it draws that energy from within your own body, rather than accessing the Force at large. This seems to place a set limit on just how much power a person can access at any one time. What's interesting is how the spell forced the magic out in a pre-determined manner. What is it about those words that produces that effect?"

"I guess we'll find out," Harry asked.

"Maybe. In the meantime, I thought you might like to read this." Kyle handed Harry one of the newspapers, and on the cover of it were two pictures. The first was a young girl with a freckle-covered faced and long hair smiling at the camera and waving almost as if it were a 2-D holoimage. And next to it was a second picture of a much older witch in white robes levitating a stretcher covered in a white cloth, with a thin, limp hand hanging from underneath the cloth.

TRAGEDY AT HOGWARTS, the headline read.

Harry read the story in mute silence, fighting a strange urge to cry.

 _Ginevra Molly Weasley, age 11, died of dark possession at Hogwarts after unleashing a Basilisk which petrified four students. Her brother, Ronald Weasley, discovered what was happening from a note clutched in the hands of one of the petrified students, a Muggle-born child named Hermione Granger. He desperately sought the help of Professor Gilderoy Lockhart, only to discover the so called hero was in fact a black-hearted coward who ran away before offering any assistance._

 _Unfortunately, the Headmaster by this time had been forced out of the castle by the head of the Board of Governors, Lucius Malfoy, and so was unavailable. Mr. Weasley next sought help from Professor McGonagall, the Deputy Headmistress. Somehow, she summoned Dumbledore back to the castle, and with the aid of the headmaster's phoenix, located young Ginevra._

 _It was, sadly, too late. What they did find was a demonic apparition that took the appearance of a young You-Know-Who. The stalwart headmaster and the demonic apparition fought a titanic battle, the end of which was the death of a thousand-year-old basilisk, the destruction of the Chamber of Secrets, and the loss of the only daughter of Arthur and Molly Weasley._

 _Miss Weasley's body was cremated in accordance with the ancient rites and her ashes given back to the land of her ancestors. This reporter extends his deepest sympathies to the Weasley family for this terrible loss._

Harry let the newspaper fall, thinking somehow that he could have made a difference if he was there. But he wasn't—he was on Ossus. "I can't help but think my vision of her was important," Harry finally said.

"Perhaps it was," Kyle said, once more back at his desk. He did not look up from the papers he was reading through. "The moment I found you, Harry, I changed your fate, just as it changed mine. Our meeting was not accidental—the Force guided me to that park, which as you know was not anywhere close to the home I'd chosen. But say I never came to Earth, or never found you. You would have lived an abused, unhappy life with your relatives, and when the time came gone to Hogwarts. Who's to say that you would not have made the acquaintance of her brother, and through him, she herself? Perhaps she was destined to play a role in your life. But because I did find you, your fate changed, and sadly so did hers. You cannot blame yourself for what might have been, Harry. Any more than you can accept responsibility for the actions of others."

"Yes, Kyle."

"Now, let's get some sleep. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."


	11. Welcome to Hogwarts

A/N: Chap 10 review responses are in my forums like normal. Thanks for reading.

* * *

 **Chapter Eleven: Welcome to Hogwarts**

\- Kyle Katarn CAN handle the truth.

Harry did not like the Floo; Kyle liked it even less.

They emerged from the fireplace into a large, clean but archaic-looking pub that was doing good business. The customers looked at Kyle with mild interest but when Harry appeared behind him, things changed. One older wizard stood up as if he was poked by a pin and shouted, "Blimey, is that Harry Potter?"

The exclamation brought every head in the room up, and in seconds forty patrons started rushing forward, only to be shoved back by a Force-push from Kyle. "Sit down and go about your business," Kyle said dangerously, "and let us be about ours."

Harry could imagine what the witches and wizards in the room might have thought. Kyle _felt_ dangerous. It wasn't just his grizzled, unsmiling countenance. He held himself in a way that promised overwhelming violence with little warning—it was in the way he held his shoulders and positioned his feet. He could kick a person's head at any time because he always maintained his balance.

The witches and wizards in the room sensed the potential violence in the old Jedi and very quietly went back to their business though they continued watching Harry intently. "That was strange," Harry whispered. "How could they possibly know what I look like?"

"Come on, there's supposed to be transport waiting for us."

The two walked out of the pub and into a cobble-stoned street surrounded by impossibly quaint buildings that looked as if they were taken out of a demented child's fairytale book. In front of the pub they found not a car, but a rickety wooden carriage pulled by a strange black beast with an equestrian body but webbed, reptilian wings. "What is _that_?" Harry blurted.

"That is a thestral, Mr. Potter," a prim, proper voice said from their right. Harry turned to see an older woman walking up the sidewalk toward them. She wore a dark blue witch's robe with a black hat topped by a cone. "Mr. Katarn, I presume? I am Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall. I will escort you to the castle. If you will?"

Harry hopped into the carriage easily, and behind him came Kyle. Not surprisingly, Kyle turned and offered a hand to McGonagall, who accepted with a quirk of her lips. "Thank you."

The moment the three were seated in the carriage the thestral began walking on its own, moving them at a surprisingly brisk pace through the forest path. Though the carriage looked ancient and frail, the ride itself was so smooth Harry suspected magic.

"So, to the daily matters," McGonagall said. "I have taken the liberty of preparing rooms for you near the Gryffindor Tower. The suite has two rooms and a shared bath and loo, if that is acceptable."

"That will be fine, thank you," Kyle said.

"All meals are taken in the great hall," McGonagall continued. "Breakfast is served from 6 a.m. until 9 a.m. on weekdays, and until 10 a.m. on weekends. Lunch is served from 11:30 am to 1 p.m., and dinner begins promptly at 6 p.m. If you get lost, please ask the portraits and they will direct you. Will Mr. Potter wish to attend any classes while he is in the castle?"

Kyle looked at Harry, who nodded. "Yes, actually, if I could," Harry said quickly. "In my textbook, it said you were the transfiguration professor, is that still true?"

"Yes, that's true. I have taught transfiguration for some fifty years now."

Harry nodded, suitably impressed by that span of time. "What is it about the words of spells that force my…magic to express itself?"

McGonagall stared at him a moment before her lips quirked again. He doubted from the lines of her face that she smiled very often. "An interesting and rather perceptive question, Mr. Potter. In truth, the words are the verbal equivalent of the arithmantic description of what the spell actually does. Magic is an expression not just of intent, but also of a specialized and rather difficult branch of mathematics we refer to as arithmancy which frames that intent into the desired results."

Kyle cleared his throat. "Arithmancy, at least as it translates to my understanding, refers to a means of determining the future."

"That was how it was used originally, to be sure," McGonagall allowed. "But over the centuries certain scholars realized that what our ancestors discovered by accident was the mathematical description of magic itself. Centuries ago, magic could affect elements and do other basic things, but only the greatest masters could perform transfiguration, or cast charms. With the creation of spells using arithmancy, and the advent of wands, almost all witches and wizards were able to do what previously only the most powerful masters could do. That was the greatest gift the Founders of Hogwarts gave to us—the first true lexicon of crafted spells and wands. It is what made Hogwarts the premier school of magic in the whole world."

"So the words…do what?" Harry asked.

"They act as a mold, if you will, which shapes your magic and intent to produce the desired result. Over time, you will learn to cast spells silently, but even with silent casting you are still using those same spells, only thinking them instead of speaking them aloud. The magic follows pathways the words themselves have created within your mind and magic."

"Amazing," Harry said. He settled into a contemplative silence while McGonagall peered intently at the two Jedi, curiosity plain on her face.

Finally, unable to help herself, she said, "I must say, Mr. Potter, that you are the spitting image of your father, except for your eyes. Those are most definitely from your mother."

"You knew them?" Harry should not have been surprised, but the question obviously made the witch happy.

"Oh yes, you see they were both Gryffindors, of which I am head of house. I remember clearly leading them in with the other first years, and I remember equally the day they finished school, already engaged to be married. Although, to be honest I thought they would end up hexing each other to death before they married. But as they matured and grew into the people they were destined to be…" She paused and smiled wistfully. "I was very fond of them, Mr. Potter. Their loss was a tragedy, and your disappearance caused a great deal of anguish as well."

Kyle looked intently at the old witch. "Were you aware his relatives were abusive?"

McGonagall blanched. "I knew they were not good people, but I did not know to what extent."

The old Jedi gave a single nod. "Nor did you check, because a man you trusted told you he was safe and cared for. He was not, and so I took him as my apprentice. Remember that, Professor, as the man you trust continues to demand that you accept things based solely on your faith in him."

Whatever good feelings McGonagall had speaking of Harry's parents withered and died before Kyle Katarn's firm gaze. Harry knew from experience that his master did not comfort people so much as make them face hard truths. Those that did so were usually better for it; those that did not were left bitter and hateful from their meeting with Kyle. It went without saying that Kyle left a trail of enemies behind wherever he went.

Eventually they cleared the trees, and ahead of them rose the castle. Harry couldn't help but stare, not because it was so impressive, but because it was so impossible. Stone structures should not have been able to rise as high or precariously as they did from the castle—it looked like an illustration from a children's novel.

For all that, it was a beautiful structure rising up on granite cliffs at the edge of a huge, deep lake that glimmered under the moonlight. He saw a small, archaic sailing ship docked at the short of the lake, but otherwise there did not appear to be any boat traffic.

"So what has Dumbledore said about Harry's name coming out of this goblet?" Kyle asked as they drew closer to a bridge spanning a wide, deep crevice that ran down to the lake.

"Nothing, directly," McGonagall said, omitting the warmth of her previous reminiscence in her voice for a sharp, professional diction. "I know he spoke at length with the other schools and the Ministry officials, but he has said nothing public about it."

"I see." Kyle didn't frown but Harry could tell from the set of his master's shoulders that he was unhappy about that. Finally, they reached the bridge and began riding toward the front entrance, through a coble-stoned driveway lined with columns, and a fountain in the middle.

"I'm afraid we will be making something of an entrance," McGonagall warned, sensing perhaps that Kyle did not tolerate unwelcome surprises well. "The other schools did so, and so it is rather expected."

Kyle said nothing. The carriage came to a halt and the three of them climbed down with McGonagall leading the way. The inside of the castle was exactly what Harry expected from the outside—high, vaulted ceilings, suits of armor from a pre-industrial age and hundreds, even thousands of portraits that lined the walls, moving about and talking.

McGonagall moved past the curious painted figures without comment until they reached a pair of large, steel-reinforced wooden doors. Before opening the doors, McGonagall turned to the two and said, "I understand that your presence here was…not voluntary. Nor do I begrudge any anger you may have regarding it. But please know that if you need anything, all you need do is ask. If for no other reason than the memory of two of my favorite students, I will help you in any way I can."

Sensing her earnestness, Harry bowed his head and said, "Thank you."

With that, she turned, lifted her wand to the doors, and they swung open silently. Beyond them Harry saw a brilliantly illuminated hall with four long lines of tables running the length of it, with a fifth table at the far end spanning the hall's width. Floating chandeliers cast light across the space, while overhead stars glimmered with an enchantment of the sky.

"It is remarkable," Harry admitted.

Kyle grunted.

"And finally, I am pleased to announce, representing the Jedi Praxeum, Harry Potter!" Dumbledore said from the front table. His voice reverberated through the room with magic, despite speaking in a normal tone.

Instantly every eye in the hall locked onto the two. Kyle ignored them as he continued walking down the hall after McGonagall; Harry followed a step behind. "Mr. Potter, we have reserved space for you at the Gryffindor table for the remainder of your stay," McGonagall said. "Mr. Katarn, as an instructor you are welcome to join us at the faculty table."

"Thank you," Kyle said. "Harry, please have a seat. I'm going to make a statement."

Harry had a sudden vision of Kyle kicking Dumbledore in the head, but did as he was told without laughing. He smiled faintly to the students at the table as he took a seat at the far end, nearest the staff table.

"Mr. Katarn, I'm so happy you could make it," Dumbledore said. "We have a seat ready for you here."

"Thank you," Kyle said curtly. "I'll be seated in a moment." Ignoring the momentary look of confusion on the old wizard's face, Kyle turned to face the hall and his magically un-aided voice bellowed out across the hall. "My name is Kyle Katarn. I and my apprentice are here because someone used magic to force my apprentice's name into the goblet, and then magic to force his name to be selected as the fourth champion. We are here under duress and under protest, and with a great deal of contempt for any authorities that would allow such an injustice to occur."

Harry stilled his features as, behind Kyle, Dumbledore and a few other wizards at the head table looked furious.

"Harry will compete because to not do so would cause him harm, and that is the only reason he will take part in this contest. I do not wish any of you ill, but understand that we do not wish to be here; we did not choose to be here. And when I find the one responsible for Harry's selection from the Goblet, I will ensure that justice is done regardless of what your law may require."

With that, Kyle walked around to the seat previously offered by Dumbledore and sat down without any further words. The whispering started before he even seated himself. Harry, intensely aware of the stares of the students around him, instead concentrated on the different food stuffs around him.

"Could you pass the rolls, please?" he asked a girl who was probably a First Year.

She nodded with wide eyes and passed a bowl of rolls. Harry took the opportunity to examine his table—it appeared the youngest students sat near the head table, while the oldest sat further down. A moment later, she turned and giggled to her friend.

"Excuse me, are you really Harry Potter?" a boy asked beside him.

"Yes."

"Where've you been?" the boy asked. "Papers said you should have been here."

"I went to a different school," Harry said, which was close enough. They left for the Jedi Praxeum when he was ten. "I learned a different type of magic."

"I read books about you," the boy continued. "They said you saved a princess and fought a whole army of vampires and have had all sorts of adventures."

"Er, I don't think that book's true," Harry said. "Sorry."

"Too bad, it'd be neat if you could fly 'n stuff," the boy said, right before stuffing an entire roll into his mouth. Seeing that was the end of any further conversation, Harry fought down his own unsettled stomach and forced himself to eat. At the head table, Harry saw Kyle talking to a grim-faced man with a sharp beard and deep red robes lined in animal fur.

Dumbledore looked on with a blank face, but his anger was easily seen in his stiff posture.

Eventually, the meal ended. Kyle stepped down immediately from the staff table and walked to Harry. McGonagall scrambled to follow in order to guide them to their suite. Harry nodded to the kids around him before joining his master, and the three of them left the hall in the same way they entered—stared at by every person there.

Finally they made their way to the hall that held the entrance to Gryffindor Tower. "I hope you'll be comfortable," McGonagall said. "My office is on the other side of the dormitory portrait, please come by any time." Much of the warmth she held when she picked them up was missing.

"Thank you," Kyle said simply. Once she was gone, he led the way into the rooms, which were rustic but spacious. The rooms featured a bed in each, a shared fireplace that warmed both rooms from the center of the separating wall, with a wardrobe and a shared fresher.

Kyle held a finger to his lips, and Harry nodded agreement. It was almost certain their room was being monitored. A short search found small portraits hung around the room—the painted figures sat still, but Harry for his part had no doubt they could hear everything said.

Together they gathered all the portraits together and dumped them in the hall without further comment. "Be mindful of your words," Kyle said when they were relatively assured of privacy. "It is not necessary for the students to know where you have been."

"I told them I have been attending a different school."

"Good, we'll go with that. When you have opportunity, explore the castle."

"Find all entrance and exit points, all defensible positions, and all possible avenues of retreat or evacuation," Harry said, quoting by rote.

"Exactly. Also look for a place where we can train in private."

"Yes, Kyle. And you?"

"I'm going to be looking for Dumbledore's scapegoat—the one who actually entered you into that Goblet. Watch yourself and be careful of your surroundings."

"Yes, Kyle."

"Now, meditation and sleep. It's going to be an interesting day tomorrow."

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

The next morning, Harry and Kyle did their meditations and calisthenics before they took turns showering. When both were ready, they made their way down to the Great Hall. Around them, other students were doing the same, and looking at them with open curiosity.

"I'm going to leave you for the day," Kyle said as they approached the hall. "McGonagall should be giving you a schedule of classes. Feel free to audit any you are interested in."

"And you, Kyle?"

"I'll be out and about," Katarn said. He sighed, and added, "Of the two of us, I'm not sure who is in the greater danger. Your enemies want you, but those who should be allies want you as well, and see me as an obstacle. Be mindful of your surroundings."

"I will, Kyle."

They parted ways just inside the door; Kyle walked stiffly to the staff table, decidedly out of place in rugged polycotton trousers and a tan-colored, long-sleeved shirt. His lightsaber hung at his belt. He settled down beside a giant of a man with a thick beard and began to gather food onto his plate.

Harry looked for and found a place at the table near a clump of students closer to his own age. He nodded politely to them and began to gather his own breakfast. He didn't hold back—breakfast was actually his largest meal of the day. The other students whispered among themselves until one of the bravest said, "So, you're Harry Potter, eh?"

"I am."

"Name's Seamus Finnegan. This here's Dean Thomas. And that's Neville. We're all fourth years. Figure you would'a been our dormmate if you'd come and all."

"Hello," Harry said politely.

"So, where were you?" Seamus continued. "You sound strange. Where you across the pond, then?"

"I was at the Jedi Praxeum on Ossus," Harry said honestly enough.

"Osses? Is that in Canada?" Neville asked.

"'Course it is," Seamus said. "Don't you know anything?"

And so, with that, it became known that Harry was in Canada. Harry looked around the table while he ate; looking for the red heads he thought should have been there. Finally, he asked, "Isn't there another boy who I would have been dorm mates with?"

"You mean Ron?" Neville asked in surprise.

Seamus, though, shook his head. "Nah, couple o' years ago his baby sister died. Real tragic it was. He got pulled out o' Hogwarts. He and his brothers. They all go to a day school in Wales, last I heard."

Though Harry kept his face blank, the news somehow deeply disturbed him. "I'm sorry to hear that."

Professor McGonagall swept in, looking sternly at the three boys. "Mr. Potter, here is a schedule of all classes. I understand from Master Katarn that you will be auditing only. However, those classes I marked are considered core classes, and I would suggest that you audit those first and most frequently."

"Of course, Professor, thank you," Harry said with a polite nod.

"Also, if you are interested in previous years' notes, there are a few students who might be able to assist you. Miss Daphne Greengrass in Slytherin, Ms. Padma Patil in Ravenclaw, and our own Hermione Granger in Gryffindor all regularly place at the top of their classes and will occasionally provide tutoring in the library for fourth years and below."

"That's good to know, thank you."

Across the table, Seamus was whispering to Dean Thomas, "Yep, definitely Canadian. Too polite by half."

Harry declined to comment. He chose to audit McGonagall's own transfiguration class first, sitting in the back only because he was not an actual student. She was discussing changing an inanimate object into an animal, and back again, as if it were just the most ordinary thing in the world.

It became clear who the two leaders of the class were. One girl in green and silver robes with immaculate blonde hair and make-up seemed to be running a competition with a bushy-haired girl in the red and gold robes of Gryffindor, each trying to outdo the other in getting their hands up first, and both were correct whenever McGonagall called on them.

The rest of the class simply watched the on-going battle with veiled disinterest until the practical portion of the class began. McGonagall handed out the goblets not by hand, but with a flick of her wand, sending the metal cups flying around the room until they all landed perfectly in front of each student, including Harry.

Though he had not intended to actually try and "magic" Harry was curious. He watched the others struggle, sensing each student's magic through the Force struggle to assume the shape of the spell. What he sensed seemed to be a conflict between the student's intent and the intent of the spell itself.

The exceptions were, of course, Granger and Greengrass, who each successfully turned their cups into large rats. Harry was pleased to note that the rats did not contain any actual life energy, but were just a lifeless simulacrum of the true animals.

Assured that he would not hurt anything, Harry removed his wand, followed McGonagall's instructions and wand movements, and pronounced the spell. His magic moved through his body much like the Force did, only it move from within him rather than from without, and as it passed through his hand and wand, he felt the words shaping it into the desired form, until the cup shimmered and changed into a large rat.

"Oh, well done, Mr. Potter!" McGonagall said. "On your first try, no less. Ladies, you may have some competition this year."

Naturally the whole class turned to stare. Harry cancelled the spell and smiled to hide his dislike at the attention. Greengrass glared at him before turning to say something to one of her classmates, while Granger glanced at him but only briefly.

Granger for the notes, then, he decided.

The rest of the classes were similar in how casual the professors were about the miracles they performed. The one exception was potions, taught by a sallow-faced man with greasy black hair and a long, hooked nose. He glared at Harry when he stepped into the dungeon.

"Ahh, our resident celebrity. Is there a reason you are here, Mr. Potter?"

Harry, taken aback by the hostility radiating from the man, said, "I was advised by Professor McGonagall to audit the core classes first and foremost, Professor."

"Ahh, that is well and good, Potter," he said, spitting the 'P' in Harry's name. "However, this class is for Hogwarts students only. So, unless you plan to enroll, be so kind as to leave."

Knowing a useless cause when he saw one, Harry nodded curtly. "Of course, Professor. My apologies for disturbing your class."

Harry was about to turn and leave when Kyle Katarn walked in the room, evidently back from his trip. "Have a seat, Harry," he said without breaking stride.

"Yes, Kyle," Harry said, sinking into a stool at the back of the class.

"How dare you!" Snape said, eyes wide. "You do not walk into my class room and disregard my instructions!"

"We're going to have a brief talk, Severus," Kyle said firmly. "It can be here, in front of your students, or it can be out in the hallway. I'm good either way."

Harry could see the potions master thinking furiously. Eventually, he decided outside was better and virtually stomped out into the hall. When the two men were outside, Harry closed his eyes, bowed his head, and hoped for the best.

"What's that about?"

Harry looked up into the brown eyes of Granger, who was partnered with a flustered Neville Longbottom. "I hope they're just… no, never mind."

The whole class turned at the sound of raised voices, followed by a thud against the door. Whatever discussion was occurring out there quieted back down. Moments later, the door opened and Snape entered alone, but the right side of his temple was already beginning to bruise.

Harry sighed but said nothing as Snape stumbled a little upon reaching his desk. He turned around, murder in his eyes, and snarled, "The potion is on the board! Get started, now!"

* * *

sp

You knew it was coming.

And that said, Rest in Peace, Alan Rickman. A delightful man who, like Vincent Price, excelled at playing villains with panache while in life being a genuinely kind and loving person. He'll be sorely missed.


	12. The Real Thing, and the Fake

A/N: Chap 11 review responses are in my forums like normal. Thanks for reading!

* * *

 **Chapter Twelve: The Real Thing, and the Fake**

If it looks like chicken, tastes like chicken, and smells like chicken, but Kyle Katarn says its beef, then it's frickin' beef.

That night, after dinner, Harry made his way to the library. Upon reaching it, he found small pockets of students spread in an uneven pattern around the reading tables which sat like islands in a sea of books.

On one island in that sea sat Hermione Granger with two younger children, likely second years. She was smiling as she talked to them, showing them both things in their books. One began nodding with understanding while the other began to write furiously.

Yes, he thought to himself, Granger was definitely the right pick. He gathered his courage with a sigh to release his tension, and walked to the table. Both the younger students looked up with wide eyes but Granger kept her face neutral. "Good evening," he said. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but Professor McGonagall indicated you might be able to help me."

"Of course," she said primly. "What can I do for you?"

"My previous school work was…well, nothing like what you learn here. I'm having to start from scratch, and I was hoping to borrow your notes from your previous years."

"Well, I suppose I could lend you my notes," she said. "But really, shouldn't you be concentrating on the first task? It's only three weeks away, now."

"In time, I suppose," Harry said. "For now, I'd like to learn a little bit more about magic as it's practiced here."

Nodding dismissal to the two younger children, Hermione reached into her satchel, and continued to reach in far beyond the dimensions of the bag itself, until she was buried almost to her shoulders in it. "Aha!" She pulled her arms back out clutching three huge clasp binders filled with easily six to seven hundred sheets of white paper each. She placed them on the desk with a loud _thud_ that made the librarian look up with a stern expression from across the sea of reading space.

"There you go."

Harry stared, nonplussed. "You carry all your previous years' notes with you in your bag?"

"I carry everything with me, at least now," Hermione said. "I was pranked quite a bit during my first and second year, so third year my parents helped me buy this charmed bag that allows me to carry around everything I hold important. I mean, not my clothes or toiletries, but everything of actual value."

"I'm sorry to hear about your pranking. Is it better now?"

"Yes," she said, though he detected a hint of sadness in her voice. "Those responsible for most of the pranking are no longer at Hogwarts."

Harry stared a moment before he remembered Kyle's advice. "You mean Ron Weasley?"

"How'd you even know that name?"

"I read about his sister."

Hermione sighed; her eyes took on a distant, melancholy light. "Ginny was only one of the lot who wasn't a complete wretch. My parents almost pulled me out of school after that, but I convinced them to let me stay, and I'm glad I did. Last year was much better, and this year has proven to be interesting so far as well. If you decide to actually start preparing for your first task and require help, please let me know."

"Thank you," Harry said, genuinely surprised at the generous offer. "And thank you very much for your notes. I'll return them as soon as I can."

Hermione waved them away and began to pack away her other things that were spread out over the table. "So, I've heard that you were in Canada."

"I've heard those rumors too," Harry said with his best imitation of Kol's charming smile.

"Funny, but you don't sound Canadian. In fact, you sound almost like an American faking a BBC accent. But that's not right either." She sighed. "Anyway, there is no such place as Ossus, not in Canada nor anywhere else in the English-speaking world. So, either you're lying, or you're very carefully omitting the truth."

"You're very sure of yourself," Harry said.

"And you're not denying it," Hermione smiled back. "Good night, Mr. Potter."

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

"Have you audited Defense Against the Dark Arts," Kyle asked that night after their evening meditations.

"No, Kyle."

"You'll find it interesting. Either I was hasty in my estimation of Snape, or the castle has been infiltrated multiple times."

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

Harry was three bites into his breakfast when Hermione Granger sat down opposite him. "So, your Master Kyle kicked Professor Snape in the head? Really? What kind of grown man does something so brutish?"

Harry looked around and saw the eyes of several Gryffindors on him. He lowered his fork of eggs and said, "A retired, warrior-monk general?" Harry said, framing it as a question of his own.

"Warrior-monk?"

"Well, something like that. I suppose I can't call him a monk since the Jedi Order no longer forbids marriage, and the man goes through…well, anyway, he has had a very martial life and has a low tolerance for foolishness."

"Does he ever kick you like that?"

Harry chuckled. "Never. Well, except in sparring practice, and then it's expected that I try to kick back. But then again, I'm not foolish enough to try arguing with him, either. Kyle is rarely wrong. He may not always be right, but he's rarely wrong."

"That doesn't make sense."

"It means, Miss Granger, that sometimes there is no clear right or wrong answer," Kyle said as he walked up behind her.

She jumped in her seat and turned to stare. "Are you going to kick me?"

"I try not to kick anyone before I've had my coffee," Kyle said with a perfectly straight face. "Harry, I'm going to be leaving the castle again today. I may not be back until late."

"Yes, Kyle."

With that, the old Jedi strode out of the hall. Harry looked back and saw Hermione watching him intently. "How old is he?" she asked.

"About ten years younger than Dumbledore," Harry said.

Hermione turned and stared. "Really? Wow, he aged better than the headmaster."

"He trims his beard. It makes all the difference."

For the first time, he heard Hermione giggle, though she quickly swallowed the sound. "Yes, well, that's still no excuse for violence. I trust you don't go around kicking people in the head."

"If I did that, then Kyle really would kick me! You have Defense Against the Dark Arts first this morning, yes?"

Hermione nodded. "It's a core subject, are you going to audit it?"

Harry nodded. "When we're done eating, I'll walk with you, if you don't mind?"

"Not at all."

He noticed a hint of color in her cheeks as he resumed eating, but did not speak of it. After they ate, the two of them walked through the halls of the castle together toward the class in question. Fortunately, the stares had become less overt. It disturbed him, though, to see just how many girls were staring at him.

Or that Hermione noticed how the looks bothered him. "Ignore them. You're just a mysterious hero, so they really can't help but stare."

Harry remembered his conversation with the first years his first night in the castle. "I see. You're not staring, though."

"I'm curious, but it's rude to stare," Hermione said. "And I've actually had a chance to talk to you. Granted, it's not eased the mystery at all, but it's more than many have had."

Harry shrugged and followed her into the classroom. Ordinarily, he sat in the back of the room so as not to take away space from actual students, but having walked so far with her, he decided to follow her the rest of the way and sat down with her. As he did so, he noticed that Daphne Greengrass was already there with a few other Slytherin students and was openly glaring not at him, but at Hermione.

"I gather you don't like each other?"

"She wasn't expecting to have to actually compete with a mere mudblood," Hermione said, not needing him to specify who he spoke of.

Before Harry could question just what that meant, a horrifically scarred man with a wooden stump for a leg and an artificial blue eye came stomp-clomping into the room. "Books out!" he shouted. "Today is theory day!"

The man spun around, and Harry fought back a wave of nausea as he sensed the man's twisted, almost black Force presence. In all his life, even facing a Sith, he'd never sensed anything so profoundly lacking in the light as he did facing this man.

Suddenly he understood his master's words. This man, facing him in the guise of a school teacher, had to be the pawn Dumbledore used to confound the Goblet of fire. He wondered briefly if Kyle meant him to expose now, or wait?

"Potter!"

Harry blinked his eyes and forced himself out of his reverie to see that man staring right at him. "Yes, Professor?"

"Did that teacher of yours tell you what the three Unforgiveables are?"

Kyle had not, but Harry, having read several back issues of the Daily Prophet the evening before he and Kyle came to Hogwarts, knew what they were. "The _Cruciatus, Imperius,_ and the killing curse."

"That's right!" the man barked. "That's right. I wanted to show all of you just what they were. You have to be prepared. _CONSTANT VIGILANCE_! But Professor Dumbledore wouldn't allow it, so all I can do is talk about them, and other dark curses."

The man began describing the effects first of the three unforgiveable curses, and then a handful of other dark curses until the toll of the clock tower announced class was over. As they students stood to leave, Professor Moody barked, "Potter, a word!"

"I'll see you later," Hermione said. Harry lingered behind, trying to keep his hands off the hilt of the lightsaber he wore at his belt. Given the fact he was not a student, he wore his normal padawan tunic and slacks.

"Yes, Professor?"

"Tell me, boy, have you begun preparing for the task?"

"I've not had opportunity. This is only my second day here, if you'll remember."

"Yes, yes," Moody said dismissively. "But you need to start preparing, boy. The tasks in the tournament are lethal. I know that Dumbledore's tried to make things as safe as he can, but people still die during these things. Start preparing, lad. It'd be a shame to see James's son squashed by some critter because he didn't take things seriously. Off with you, then, lad. Sixth years are arriving."

Harry nodded and quickly left the room, relieved to be free of the man. As he walked out into the hall, he felt an unfamiliar presence and turned to see a Slytherin boy his own age step to his side.

"Good morning," the boy said. He had a pale complexion and almost white-blonde hair. "My name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

"Hello, Draco," Harry said neutrally. He recognized the name from reading about Ginny Weasley's death. "What can I do for you?"

Draco snorted. "Nothing, I'd imagine. However, there is something I can do for you. I know what the first task is."

Harry kept his face neutral while he searched the other boy's face and presence in the Force. He was surprised to feel a darkness within the boy. It was nothing compared to Moody, but he could feel echoes of pain, loneliness, bitterness and hatred that stewed within him long enough to develop a definite taint of darkness. "How would you know that?" he asked carefully.

"Father may not be on the Board of Governors any more, but he still has a great deal of influence. I know for a fact that the Durmstrang champion knows, and I'd been willing to bet that the Beauxbaton's champion knows as well. It's dragons. You'll be facing dragons."

Harry had no idea what dragons were, at least not on Earth. He knew what Krayt Dragons were, though, and hoped the two species were not so similar. "Thank you for telling me."

"You're welcome," Malfoy said. "Hanging around with Gryffindors all day can be bad for you, Potter. Don't believe everything they might tell you; not all Slytherins are bad."

"I'll remember that."

Draco nodded before turning to go his separate way. Rather than go to the next class, Harry instead made his way to the library and walked to the elderly librarian. "Hello."

She looked up with narrowed eyes, as if he were a potential enemy. "Yes, Mr. Potter?"

He was not surprised she knew who he was. "Yes, I'm sorry to bother you, but my last school used a different indexing method than what you use here. I was hoping you could help me understand your filing and reference methods."

Her eyes widened, and the look of suspicion gave way to one of awe. "You wish to learn how to use our card catalogue?"

"Well, yes, I suppose so. The library is large enough I don't see how I could make any sense of it otherwise."

"And yet you're the only student in three years to ask!"

"Let me guess, Hermione Granger was the last?"

"Well, yes. In her first semester, no less. Come, then. I'll show you our self-updating card catalogue system!"

Harry learned far more about the history of bibliographic arts than he dreamed he would need. He learned that until forty years ago, when Madame Pince was hired, Hogwarts still used a variation of the _Pinakes_ system of Greek cataloguing that had been used in various forms since the third century B.C. But Pince brought with her a radical new system called the Dewey Decimal System, and took on the monumental task of cataloging the entire library by herself.

By the time she finished, Harry had a firm grasp of the library's surprisingly logical layout, and how the card catalog system was updated by magic almost as if it were a computer, ensuring all entries were current, even to when a book was checked out and due back. Pince spoke enthusiastically, and by the time Harry gave her his profuse and sincere thanks, she no longer viewed him as a potential interloper, but as a cherished disciple.

She was a very lonely woman. Harry briefly thought of introducing her to Kyle, but then decided Kyle wouldn't be interested. He apparently preferred women in uniform.

When at last he had the freedom to begin his studies, he used the cards to quickly find several books on dragons, laid them out on a table, and began to read.

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

Harry woke up early the next morning as he sensed Kyle walking into the suite. Kyle, knowing Harry would sense his presence, said, "Learn anything interesting yesterday?"

"I'm going to be facing flying, fire-breathing, apex-predators who are immune to most magic and range from 10 to 30 meters in length for my first task. How about you?"

"I learned that the Minister of Magic is an utter fool and not worth the air he breathes," Kyle said as he sank into a rickety chair.

"Did you kick him?"

Kyle snorted. "It was tempting, but not even I'm that stupid." He ran large hands through his thinning hair. "Amelia is sure her own department has been compromised, too. She ticked off at least ten senior Aurors she thinks would side with Voldemort without a moment's hesitation if he ever appeared again."

"That's…disturbing. Oh, yeah, Professor Moody is evil."

Kyle sighed and gave Harry an appraising look. "What makes you think that?"

"There is a complete absence of light in him, Kyle. There is simply nothing to redeem."

Kyle nodded. "People use that word a lot, throwing it around pretty liberally. As a Jedi, you cannot afford to use it lightly. But so long as you understand what evil is, then…well. Yeah, the bastard's evil. I'm fairly certain he's the one who put your name in. And given how powerful Dumbledore is, I have no doubt he is aware of Moody's disposition. Dumbledore told me the man was an avowed light wizard."

"What do we do?"

"Well, first, we shower. Me first, I think I need it more. Then we start preparing to get you past those apex-predators of yours. Then we decide whether to let Dumbledore's scheme play out, or if we stop it early."

"Is Amelia Bones an ally now?" Harry asked, careful to keep his expression blank.

It didn't work, as one of his pillows flew up from his bed and hit him hard in the back of his head. However, before he left Harry's room, Kyle said, "I think she might be. In a society as seemingly corrupt as this one, finding someone as honest as she is, especially one who is aware that her honesty is not shared by those around her, is remarkable."

And then he was gone, heading toward the shower. He was out just five minutes later, and Harry took his place for an equally fast but effective shower. Breakfast, and then transfiguration. He found that with Hermione's notes from past years, he was quickly catching up to his age-group in magic. Of course, it helped that he had the mental retention of a Jedi padawan. Things McGonagall said began to make sense, and with the advantage of having just read through three years of notes, he began to see patterns and consistencies in the professor's approach to teaching that he frankly admired.

Professor Flitwick was the same. He also audited ancient runes and arithmancy, but did not bother with astrology or history of magic. He only audited one other course with Snape, but decided the hostility was not worth the effort and instead resigned himself to just reading the texts. He seriously doubted his life as a Jedi would benefit from having a knowledge of Earth-based potions. The thought of staying on Earth did not even occur to him.

He audited Divination for all of ten minutes before deciding it was not something he had interest in. He was content with whatever the Force revealed to him regarding his future, present or past; the idea of trying to manipulate or trick fate into revealing more left him feeling slightly dirty, and the professor herself was, using generous terminology, a sot.

Care of Magical Creatures could have been interesting, but the massive professor teaching it had such a difficult time speaking clearly that very little of the lesson actually came through. He evidently had no concept of teaching, and repeatedly placed the students in harm's way without even realizing it.

That afternoon, a younger student fetched Harry for a ceremony related to the task. He arrived in time to see Kyle and the other champions. Given his unique introduction to the tournament, this was his first time seeing the other champions together. Viktor Krum was a short, muscular boy with lank dark-brown hair and severe expression on his pointed face. Cedric Diggory looked open and friendly, smiling and talking with the squat, wide-bodied witch who was his head of house. The final champion was a breath-taking girl with honey-blonde hair and porcelain skin who exuded appeal.

They lined up to allow Ollivander, the old man who sold Harry his wand, to weigh and measure their own wands. When the ceremony was over, Harry started to leave when a woman in bright primary colors and thick, jewel-encrusted glasses pushed her way through the crowd to stand right in front of him.

"Mr. Potter, Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet. Tell me, where have you been all these years?"

Before Harry even spoke, a floating notebook and quill began scribbling furiously beside her, until a roughly calloused hand reached out and crushed both.

Rita blinked and stared at the intruder, only to find Kyle's flat expression staring right back. "Harry does not give interviews," he said.

"Ah, the man who threatened justice," the reporter said with a slimy smile. "Word is you've been seen around the DMLE a lot lately, Mister Katarn. Some say maybe too much. What do you say to accusations that you're attempting to insinuate yourself into the life of a potential new minister?"

"I'd say no such accusations exist, and if I see you attempting to contact my apprentice again, I will have that same DMLE detain you," Kyle said in a dry tone. "Go away now."

With a huff, Skeeter turned and walked away. Kyle watched her a moment before saying, "Stay away from her. I've read her work—she's worse than any holoshill you've ever encountered."

"Yes, Kyle."

"Now, let's go train. You can show me some of what you've learned."


	13. The World According to Hermione Granger

A/N: Chap 12 review responses are in my forums like normal. Thanks for reading.

* * *

 **Chapter Thirteen: The World According to Hermione Granger**

Kyle Katarn is the monster Krayt Dragons

tell scary bedtime stories to their kids about.

When Hermione Granger was ten years old, her parents bought her the movie _ET: The Extra Terrestrial_.

Hermione was a lonely girl at that age, with untamable brown hair and very large front teeth that her classmates constantly made fun of. They laughed at the fact that she wore braces; that she was always first to raise her hands; that she was already reading grown-up books.

Books and movies were her escape. And she tended to lean toward the more escapist movies and books at that age. Naturally, her parents fed that hunger with one of the most popular child escape fantasies ever put on film.

Hermione remembered openly bawling when the squishy little alien died, and then hopping with a squeal of joy when he came back to life. She commiserated with the little boy, Elliot, and in her dreams she was actually there with him. She never dreamed she was the one the alien came to. She dreamed that she was the one helping the one the alien came to; that Elliot and ET were her friends, that she helped them, and that they loved her.

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

"What a know it all," Ron said. "No wonder she doesn't have any friends!"

The words hit twelve-year-old Hermione like a hammer to her heart. Twelve years of jibes, snide comments and hurtful words came down to that one, hateful statement by a boy that she very much wanted to be her friend.

That one fact made it all the worse. She liked Ron. When she walked in on him in the Hogwart's Express and saw him talking to Seamus about the silly little spell that would supposedly turn his pet rat a different color, she honestly thought he was kind of cute. In her mind, she was starting over. No one in the wizarding world knew who she was. No one knew about her reputation from her old school and how the teachers all loved her but the other kids hated her. So, she was starting all over again, and here was her chance to start over by befriending a cute, silly little boy.

It didn't work. "Mind your own business," was Ron's suggestion to her after his spell backfired and singed the poor rat's fur.

From then on, the boy she thought could be her first friend in the wizarding world became her worst tormentor. When she was sorted into Gryffindor, the other students cheered while Ron just snorted. "Great," he said.

When they shared their first classes and she already knew the answers because she actually read the textbooks, he rolled his eyes at Seamus. It continued for the entire first two months, until Hermione walked around in a constant state of worry. The tension made her stomach hurt—she stopped eating and sleep was one long nightmare. She constantly walked with her head down and her ears straining for the cruel jokes she knew would come. She heard her housemates complaining about the Slytherins, but it was her fellow Gryffindors that made her life miserable. She seriously considered writing to her parents and withdrawing from school to return to the muggle world.

On their first Halloween feast, she sat alone at the otherwise crowded Gryffindor table moving food from one side of her plate to the other. Nearby Ron, Dean, Seamus and the rest of his little circle of first-year friends spoke, she heard him say, "What a know it all. No wonder she doesn't have any friends."

She dropped her fork and stared at her plate in silence as Seamus and the others laughed. She knew a couple of others added their own observations and comments, all speaking loud enough for her to hear. She sat with her uncontrollable hair hanging down around her face, until the ache of their words became too much. Silently wiping away her tears, she stood abruptly and left the table.

"Probably heading toward the library, bossy little bird," Ron said to her back.

Hermione fought the panic in her legs and the burning in her eyes. She would not run. She WOULD NOT run away like a little girl. She would not give those gits the satisfaction of knowing how much their words hurt her. But fight as she might, she could not keep the impulse to flee under control and ran from the great hall and the cruel laughter in it. She never saw the turban-headed Professor Quirrel run by on his mission to inform the school of a troll on the premises. She did not hear the alarm from the Great Hall. She ran as fast as her legs would take her to the girl's bathroom, where she ran into the first stall she reached, sat down on the loo, and cried her heart out.

"I'm not bossy," she said to herself as she cried. "I'm not any of those things. I'm not, I'm not." She let her head fall to her hands and wept. "Then why doesn't anyone like me?"

And that was the question. Hermione was a very intelligent young witch, even when that questing intellect dealt with harsh truths. And that terrible intellect was telling her that there had to be a reason that no one seemed to want to be her friend. Maybe there was something wrong with her. Maybe she was too bossy.

Her self-reflection was shattered when she heard a rhythmic thudding approaching. She looked up, tears dripping from her chin, wondering what the sound was. The thudding stopped, and in the silence she became aware of a strange grunting sound. Then she saw the grotesque, balding green head rising a full meter or more above the top of the stall. The huge head turned and two beady eyes looked down at her.

Hermione tried to scream. The scream died in a sub vocal whimper.

The troll leaned forward and stared directly down on her. "Arrrggghh," it growled.

It raised a club larger than Hermione herself and swung it.

The act of diving for cover freed Hermione's voice and she screamed as loud as she could. The club blew through her stall and sent shards of wood shooting against her calves. She screamed again and scrambled fast underneath the stall walls. The walls over her exploded again as the club swung through again.

She came against the bricks of the far wall and found herself with no place else to run. The last stall over her head fell to the same fate as its fellows and shattered before the massive club. She looked through the strands of her hair at the monster. It looked right back down at her. She could smell the stench of its breath, like a thousand rotting bodies, envelope her. The creature snorted and opened its great fanged mouth. It roared at her and raised its club.

Hermione scrambled underneath the sinks, only to have one shatter under the club. She desperately wanted someone to come help her. She needed a hero to save her, but there were no heroes at Hogwarts.

 _Run!_

For the rest of her life, she never knew if the voice urging her to run was her own or not, but she ran. She wasn't fast enough. The hero she desperately needed never came. The club brushed against her shoulder and the only sound louder than the shattering of the porcelain sink was the audible crack of her collar bone.

She cried in agony, but the merciless troll didn't pause. Desperate, without any place else to hide, Hermione did the only thing she could. She crawled to her feet and ran as fast as she could while cradling her broken shoulder. The troll, faster than it looked, brought his club around and struck her full in the back.

She was conscious of a terrible crushing force against her back and head and flying through the air. She caught the most fleeting glimpse of Professors Dumbledore and McGonagal's horrified face before she slammed into the far wall of the bathroom and everything faded to black.

She woke up three days later in the hospital wing. Madame Pomfrey was always very kind to her, and made sure she wasn't in too much pain.

The troll's club broke her back in four places, shattered every limb, and broke most of her ribs when she hit the wall. If not for liberal doses of skelegrow and some specialized care from St. Mungos, she would have died on three separate occasions, or at the least be permanently paralyzed. She overheard Pomfrey several times ask Professor Dumbledore to transfer her to the hospital, and every time it was refused. Dumbledore did not want the extent of her injuries made public knowledge. Instead, master healers from the magical hospital came to Hogwarts to ensure her spinal cord was not permanently damaged.

No students came to visit her. Day after day, she lay in bed aching from the skelegrow or the lingering headache, hoping someone would notice she was not in class. McGonagall came, almost daily. Even Professor Dumbledore came by every other day to check on her, but none of her classmates. Not even the girls she roomed with came to check on her.

The loneliness was worse than the pain. She realized with a terrible ache in her heart that there really was not a single student in the school who cared about her.

Then, one day, a first year boy walked cautiously into the room. He looked dumpy in his robes and had a bumbling expression, but he walked right up to her bed. "'Allo, Hermione," Neville Longbottom said.

She stared up at him in disbelief. "Are you okay?" she asked. "Why are you in the hospital wing?"

Neville snorted and almost smiled. "To check on you," he said. "I…missed you in Transfigurations class. I…I…" He stopped and swallowed. "I know what it's like. The other kids make fun of me too. So, well, if you want, I'll be your friend." He pulled a beautiful red orchid from his robe pocket, and put it in the empty vase by her bed. "It's no good to be alone."

Hermione's eyes watered despite her best efforts. "It really isn't good," she agreed wholeheartedly. And on that day, Neville became her first and only friend.

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

"My brothers are all prats," Ginny said.

Two days before her thirteenth birthday, Hermione looked at the cute, red-headed First Year in surprise as she sat down across from her. "I'm sorry?" Hermione said, absolutely certain the youngest Weasley spawn was setting her up for something drastic.

Ginny started putting food on her plate while glaring with genuine anger at her older brothers. "They used to prank me all the time too. Until I started getting 'em back. That's what you have to do. Get them back, and hard. Ron's scared of spiders, so one time I filled his sock drawer with hundreds of them. Last time he tried pranking me, I can tell you that!"

It was difficult not to laugh. After a year of constant abuse from Ginny Weasley's older brothers, it was difficult to accept any help from that anyone in that family. She did notice, however, that Ginny seemed to have a hard time making friends too. She walked around the halls all the time muttering and writing in her diary.

But then something remarkable happened. Neville came and sat down next to Hermione and said, "Hey, Ginny."

"Hey, Nev," Ginny said with a genuine smile.

"You know each other?" Hermione asked.

Nev had a mouth full of food already, so Ginny answered. "There aren't that many light purebloods left. I used to play over at Longbottom Marsh all the time."

Neville nodded and swallowed. "She, Bill and Charlie are the only nice Weasleys. The rest are…"

"Prats," Ginny finished.

Hermione nodded in agreement. "They really are. Hermione Granger, pleasure to meet you."

"Ginny Weasley, Neville's told me all about you. All good, I promise."

Two weeks later, when Ron started making fun of her hair as she walked by, Hermione turned and flicked her wand at him. "What was that?" he demanded, wide-eyed.

Hermione, without smiling, said: "I was just noticing the large spider on your shoulder. Are you going to name him?"

He flicked his eyes down to the significantly sized giant huntsman spider she learned how to conjure silently after three weeks of research and hard effort. He screamed so loudly people rushed down the stairs into the common room to see what the matter was. He tried brushing it off frantically, but the spider clung to him tenaciously. "Get 'em off, get 'em off!" Ron was now crying as he screamed.

"I'm not touching that thing!" Seamus said helpfully.

Finally the conjuration ended. Hermione, fighting back her smiles, said into the intervening silence: "So, Ron, do you have anything else to say about my hair? Or my teeth, perchance? Do you feel the need to comment on my revision habits? It's amazing what you can find in the library. I understand that spider is the largest by leg span, but there are larger by mass. Perhaps I could even conjure an Acromantula for you."

No one could believe what they were seeing, much less Ron. But Hermione was not done. "You are a bully and a prat, Ron Weasley. And I've had enough. Every time I hear you make any remark about me will result in spiders on you. They'll come in all sorts of sizes and shapes, and you'll never know where they are. Remember that, Weasley."

She turned to leave. Only when she was in the portrait frame on her way out and heard the sounds of cheers did she allow herself to smile. Not only had she finally confronted her personally bully, she'd made a new friend in Ginny.

The bullying stopped after that. She couldn't say everyone was suddenly her friend, but her classmates knew beyond a doubt that Hermione was a Gryffindor through-and-through. With Neville and Ginny, she thought, that was enough.

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

Neville was sitting beside her bed when Pomfrey administered the mandrake potion. The first words out of her mouth were, "Neville, it's a basilisk!"

She then saw his swollen eyes and red nose, and looked around at the other students just now being treated. "How…how long was I petrified?"

"It's May 15th," Neville said.

Hermione felt her eyes widen in alarm. "Two months?"

"It was Ginny." Neville sniffed and wiped his nose with an ill-used kerchief. "That diary of hers was a dark artifact. It possessed her, made her let out the basilisk, and a week ago it killed her."

Hermione couldn't believe it. She continued to deny it until he showed her the Daily Prophet headline. She had to stop several times to wipe tears from her eyes. "Why…why would anyone do that to her? Why, Neville?"

Neville's face darkened. "Because some people are just evil."

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

Hermione woke up before sunrise on the day of the first task and showered quickly before pulling her clothes on. She wanted very much to get out of the school before the chaos over the First Challenge erupted.

She wasn't surprised to find Neville in the Great Hall. He was reading his copy of the Daily Prophet while sipping black tea, and for a moment Hermione thought he rather looked like an old man. The image made her smile. He glanced up, blinking. "Morning."

"Good morning, Neville. How are you?"

"Good. Here, look at this."

He handed her the front of the paper, which had a slightly blurred picture of Harry Potter. Oddly, his figure stayed absolutely still and unmoving despite the motion of all those behind him, staring at the camera as if about to strike it down. The headline, though, was atrocious.

 _HARRY POTTER: SLAVE?_

 _By Rita Skeeter_

 _Scandalous information has recently come to this reporter's attention regarding the mysterious disappearance and reappearance of Harry Potter._

 _The Boy Who Lived disappeared on November 1_ _st_ _, 1981, the day after his parents' fateful deaths and the destruction of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. For many years, reporters such as myself speculated that he must have been oversees, since Gringotts assured us the Potter Heir still lived._

 _But now, in a shocking turn of events, this reporter has learned that Harry Potter was abducted from the home of his aunt and uncle, as a mere babe, by the mysterious Kyle Katarn._

 _This man has no history anywhere in any magical school this reporter could contact, nor does he have any Muggle records other than the records showing him as Harry Potter's guardian, which anonymous sources say were clearly forged. Anonymous sources have heard Katarn refer to himself as Harry Potter's master. Most shocking of all, Harry Potter himself as also described Katarn as his master._

 _This reporter cannot help but wonder how the Minister of Magic has allowed a most cherished treasure of Magical England to be stolen into slavery like a House Elf?_

The sound of increasing muttering around the hall made her look up from the damning article to see other students now reading it as well. "This isn't good," Neville said.

"No, it isn't," Hermione said. "Come on, let's get to the tournament stands before it gets too crowded."

"Right."

Outside, the skies were a uniform shade of dark gray. If there was a sun trying to rise, it was doing so well out of sight behind the clouds and at such a distance to do nothing for the cold bite of the air. The grass just outside the front courtyard of the castle crackled as her trainers broke through a thick layer of frost. Her breath billowed before her eyes and her nose tickled. She loved the cold, as odd as that sounded, but she did wish for the first snows to come. There was something beyond the mere magical when Hogwarts became blanketed in pristine white snow.

"Do you think the paper was right?"

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know, but I have no doubt there's more to it. I've only spoken to Harry a few times, and while Mister Katarn strikes me as a very hard man, he doesn't seem to be unnecessarily cruel. Well, except for kicking Snape."

"And that's arguably not cruel," Neville said. "Snape's actually been a lot better in the class since then."

"I just don't know what to think," Hermione said. "Harry's always so polite and restrained, it's not normal. I wonder…I just don't know."

Despite the early start, they were not the first ones to the stands. But most of the early spectators gravitated toward the first line of seats that looked out over a rocky area roughly the size of a football field. The Minister's Box sat in the middle, elevated out from the rest of the stadium seating.

The two of them sat just to the side of the box, where both could get a good look at the people inside. In just minutes, the stands began to fill in earnest. Ten minutes before the task was to begin, several people appeared in the box itself. She recognized the Minister for Magic from his many, many appearances in the paper. Dumbledore, Karkaroff and Madam Maxine were all there as well. Katarn, however, was absent.

They were all speaking rapidly to each other, but with the increasing noise of the crowds, Hermione could not hear a thing.

"The first Task is upon us!" Ludo Bagman's booming voice suddenly announced. "Each champion must retrieve a golden egg from among a dragon's clutch. This egg is essential for the champion to be able to compete in the second task. The first champion to compete will be Cedric Diggory, representing Hogwarts!"

Cedric's cadre of adoring Hufflepuff fans and in fact much of the school cheered like mad. Cedric was one of those all-around nice boys that never really noticed Hermione, but likewise was never cruel to her. He was a sixth year, though, so they rarely interacted.

With the announcement, the cage vanished with a pop, as did the wizards, revealing a monstrous, fire-breathing, winged beast at least thirty feet long. "Oh Merlin!" Hermione said.

Cedric emerged from the tent wearing a dragon-hide vest and suit. He had his wand at the ready. Almost immediately the dragon he faced—a Swedish Short-Snout, according to Bagman—roared a challenge followed by a burst of flame. Cedric quickly rolled out of the way and with a flourish of his wand performed a text-book perfect piece of transfiguration on a nearby rock.

Where once a rock stood, a large brown Labrador now stood barking angrily at the huge dragon.

The dragon's head drifted for a moment to the dog, but then decided Cedric was the more inviting target.

The dog charged forward with a flurry of angry barks, running almost to the dragon's claws. With such an incessant irritant, the dragon turned and snapped at the transfigured animal. With a frightened yelp, the dog jumped away. Cedric chose exactly that moment to rush forward over the rocks. He stopped and ducked behind a boulder as a wash of dragon's fire poured over his path, but once again the dog attacked, barking like mad.

So it went as Cedric made his way to the nest. All the while Bagman continued to make idiotic, if not overly cheerful, commentary. Finally Cedric made it to the nest and grabbed the golden egg just as the dragon bit the transfigured Lab in half. Shattered shards of rock sprayed over the stadium as the entity reverted to its old form. Instantly the dragon turned back to Cedric and roared in anger as it saw him running away.

The roar was accompanied by a huge burst of fire that propelled Cedric completely off the rocky hill that formed the center of the stadium. Hermione and the rest of the audience sucked in their collective breaths while Bagman said, "Clever move—pity it didn't work."

Then the fire and smoke cleared. A burned but still very much alive and standing Cedric Diggory held up the golden egg to the wild cheers of his fellow students. It was such an impressive sight even Hermione had to cheer. "Very good indeed!" Bagman announced. "And now the marks from the judges!"

The dragon handlers appeared and with a flurry of specialized spells calmed the Swedish short-snout and carried her away. Just minutes later another dragon was led in by a host of handlers, this one slightly smaller than the first with a shiny green gloss to its scales.

Next came the French champion. Hermione couldn't help but notice how Neville seemed to sigh and sink into himself. The French champion came close to removing any possible doubt of her heritage when she began possibly the most erotic dance Hermione had ever seen. She, like the rest of the crowd, leaned forward in amazement and allure as the lithe figure moved enticingly across the rocky slope.

It was only through sheer force of will that Hermione was able to pull her attention away from the dancer to the dragon. Then she understood. The Welsh Green was following the dance as closely as the spectators. It was more than a mere dance, it was a charm, and it was working. The dragon's eyelids started to droop, until it gently laid its head on the ground and began to snore loudly.

The rest didn't seem to understand what had happened until, with the grace of a ballerina, Fleur skirted past the dragon, lifted the egg, and started back. If it weren't for the fact that the dragon snorted a ball of fire in its sleep, she would have made it clean away.

The handlers took the green away and next came the Chinese fireball, a fierce, red-scaled brute of a dragon that roared its rage with billows of fire.

Hermione's breath caught in her throat as Viktor Krum strode resolutely out into the rocky ground, raised his wand, and shouted a Romanian hex without a moment's delay. A splash of yellow light flared from his wand and hit the dragon square between the eyes. The resulting pandemonium filled the stadium as the angry reptile raised both fore claws to its face to try and alleviate the pain of the hex.

Viktor ran dangerously close to the flailing tail but managed to avoid both wild swings to grab his egg. It was just in time, too. The dragon in its rage and pain swung the spiked tail down where it thought it heard its assailant, and several actual eggs from its clutch were broken.

Although Hermione noticed Karkaroff gave him an insanely high score, all the other judges did not. He wasn't supposed to harm the dragon or the eggs.

The angry Chinese fireball was removed, and in its place was the largest of the four. The Hungarian Horntail, according to Neville, was the meanest breed of dragon known. It was recorded throughout history as attacking and destroying anything that even came close to its territory, and was even known to toy with its victims before devouring them.

Harry Potter moved out of the stand dressed in a strange brown cloak over a tan tunic and white undershirt. He wore tan slacks and calf-high boots and moved with an odd grace for a boy his age. Hermione glanced at the box, but Kyle still was not there.

The dragon roared, charged forward, and broke its chain so easily the effort did not even slow its progress.

The whole stadium went absolutely still for one long, heart-wrenching moment. And then terrified screams filled the air as the dragon rushed toward Harry without a chain to restrain it. Harry, though, did not flinch away. Instead, he pirouetted on one foot, swinging both hands over his head like a dancer, and then swung both arms down hard.

Something struck the dragon's head and shoved it into the rocky ground like a giant hammer. The dragon stumbled and fell over itself in a tumble of scales and wings. Instantly, Harry exploded into motion, running over the uneven ground and somersaulting over boulders as if they were nothing. He reached the egg just as the angry dragon regained its footing and roared. It spun around to its nest and Harry. With a great flap of its wings it lurched into the sky before descending on him.

Once again Harry spun and made the downward thrust, only with one hand this time as the other held the egg. Once again some unseen magic struck the dragon in the head, forcing it down in an uncontrolled crash. As it tumbled, Harry darted forward again almost faster than Hermione could follow. The dragon recovered faster this time; with a roar it lashed out with its' tail.

There was no way he should have been able to even see it, much less dodge it. Yet somehow Harry flung himself to the side in time to miss the lashing tail, somersaulted over a boulder the size of a Bentley, and ran into the tent just as the dragon handlers came rushing out in a desperate bid to contain the dragon.

"What kind of magic are they teaching at Potter's school?" Neville asked aloud.


	14. The Inquiry

A/N: Chap 13 review responses are in my forums.

* * *

 **Chapter Fourteen: The Inquiry**

Kyle Katarn NEVER has a bad feeling about this. I mean, why would he?

"Do you think it was Dumbledore?" Harry asked in their quarters the evening after the first task. A copy of the Daily Prophet was spread out on the Harry's writing desk, as well as a summons to the Wizengamot.

"Not directly," Kyle said. "He was able to feign honesty when I confronted him. It's more likely something he engineered. The man is subtle, I'll give him that. He might have let slip one word, and that would have been enough. More likely it was one of his stooges—possibly Black since he has the most to gain if the Ministry tries to take you away."

"Can they?" Harry asked, wide-eyed.

"Within the greater galactic law, no," Kyle said. "When you turned fourteen, in fact, the law gave you the right to choose whether to become a Jedi Knight or not. Even Imperial law recognized that basic right. I'm sure you've noticed most padawans are actually older than you—that's because they start later. The only young ones we have are either orphans, or students whose parents accompany them to Ossus."

"Like Ansaki."

"Precisely. But there's also the more practical side of the question—whether we can physically stop them. That's why we're going to this inquest, Harry. Your people have their own power, and while I can take any one or even five at a time without effort, I would eventually fall if they come at us with numbers."

"But…"

Kyle put a hand on his shoulder. "Harry, we need you to get through this tournament. I need you safe. If that means we play along and let them officially take custody of you, we'll play along. You're a Jedi Padawan—there's no prison on this world that can hold you. Once we're done with the tournament, if necessary we'll call the _Preening Crow_ and we'll leave this world once and for all."

"Okay, Kyle. But…shouldn't we at least prepare?"

"Oh, we'll prepare. The moment Amelia told me about the article, I've been preparing. I just want you to know that we have options."

"Right. Of course. So when is the inquest?"

"Tomorrow morning. So meditate and then get to sleep. Wear your Jedi robes."

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

The nondescript man in the red auror robes met them near what looked like a Muggle phone booth before the sun even rose the next morning. "Mr. Katarn, Mr. Potter?"

"That's us. Gawain Robards?"

"Right, sir. This way, please."

He led them into the phone booth and punched in a combination of numbers. Moments later, despite the morning Muggle foot traffic walking unknowingly all around them, the booth sank into the ground. Harry stood with Kyle's hand on his shoulder fighting back waves of worry with every trick he knew in the Force.

While he had seen Kyle at his weakest and most tired, and felt genuine terror at losing him, never before had he faced the prospect of someone else just taking him away from his master. The idea was ludicrous within the greater galaxy. Separating Jedi masters and padawans was a crime. And yet, on this primitive backwater of a planet that was his birthplace, the prospect was terrifyingly real.

"Is it a public session?" Kyle asked the auror.

"No, sir. Boss managed to get a closed hearing. You should have heard the squawking about it, too."

Kyle nodded; Harry could feel satisfaction from the old Jedi.

They emerged from the phone booth into a genuinely impressive, cavernous space lined in offices, almost like someone took Picadilly Square and put it underground. However, it held an oppressive air to it. There wasn't enough light, Harry decided. The Praxeum on Ossus always had light. Too much of the Ministry cavern seemed shrouded in shadow for Harry's taste.

People stared at them in the clunky lift after they passed through a cursory inspection point, but he followed Kyle's lead and ignored the looks. They continued out into the level that held the courtroom where the entire Wizengamot would be hearing the case.

"You look like you have a plan," Harry said under his breath.

"I have about six. We'll see which one fits best."

They were met outside the courtroom by a tall, gaunt fellow in a yellow and black pinstriped silk suit with an alarmingly crimson tie. He was the palest fellow Harry had ever seen, with dark circles under his eyes, and had no presence in the Force at all. Instead of offering a hand, he nodded regally to Kyle. "Master Katarn?"

"Mr. Sanguini," Katarn said with a curt nod. "Are we ready?"

The tall man smiled, and Harry suddenly realized why he was having such a hard time sensing the Force from him. The smile flashed a pair of long, sharp, almost snake-like fangs. "Indeed we are, Master Katarn."

With the tall vampire in the lead, the three stepped into a crowded, noisy amphitheater. While the observation seating was empty, the seats of the Wizengamot members were full to capacity. What caught Harry's attention was how old and decrepit the walls of the space appeared. While the seats were polished, as was the wood half-wall that separated the Wizengamot members from the floor, the walls and columns behind them revealed cracked or missing plaster, broken brick work and web-strewn murals of past members.

The members themselves were dressed either in black or plum-colored robes with large, trigonal hats that matched the color of their robes. Like the walls behind them, most appeared as old and decrepit as their surroundings—at least three members were actually asleep.

Dumbledore was one of the few not asleep. He wore a plum robe and hat, and stood speaking with another extraordinarily old witch with lines in her face that appeared to be deep enough to tickle her spine. As they walked in, Harry saw two raised platforms framed in banisters. On the right side facing the Wizengamot stood Cornelius Fudge, whom Harry recognized from the First Task. With him stood a short, wide-bodied woman in Wizengamot robes. She left the podium when they entered and walked quickly back to the stands where she sat.

"Well, it looks as if we're all here, then," Dumbledore said from the central podium. "Mr. Sanguini, what surprise. What can we do for your today?"

"I have been retained by Mr. Katarn as legal counsel, Chief Warlock," the Vampire said. His voice sounded deep, cool and powerful.

"This is a simple inquest, Mr. Katarn does not need counsel."

Sanguini flashed his fangs. "With respect, Chief Warlock, a simple inquest does not require the entire Wizengamot to be in session. Therefore, he does."

"Oh get on with it, Dumbledore, and let's put the Potter boy where he belongs!" the craggy-faced old witch Dumbledore spoke with when they entered said.

The Chief Warlock managed to look chagrinned at the statement before rapping his gavel. "Very well, this special session of the Wizengamot is in session. Our purpose today is to review the guardianship of one Harry James Potter, son of James and Lily Potter, deceased. Minister, I believe you are representing the Ministry?"

"I am!" Fudge all but bellowed. "Witches and wizards of the Wizengamot, the Ministry has been inundated with demands from our people to get to the root of this matter. And so I directed Madam Mafalda Hopkirk of the Improper Use of Magic Department, which as a department within the DMLE also oversees child welfare in general, to determine how Harry Potter came to in the custody of Mr. Kyle Katarn. I also directed Ms. Hopkirk to determine just who Mr. Katarn is. I call on Madam Hopkirk to give testimony."

Hopkirk appeared to be a frumpy witch of late middle age wearing a too-tight business skirt of a unique orange color that did fascinating things to her complexion. She walked daintily on heels far too long for her to balance on and took a seat that popped into existence between the two boxes, facing the Wizengamot.

"Mrs. Hopkirk," Fudge said pompously. "What is your role in the placement of orphaned wizard children?"

Hopkirk cleared her throat, twice. "My office is in charge of placing such children with foster families, Minister."

"Very good. And did your office place Mr. Potter with Mr. Katarn?"

"No, we have no record of Mr. Katarn at all, Minister."

"Thank you," Dumbledore said. "You are dismissed, Ms. Hopkirk."

"Ahh, with respect, Chief Warlock," Sanguini said with a fang-filled smile that at once begged forgiveness and refused to be ignored. "But on behalf of my client I must demand the right to question Ms. Hopkirk as well."

"Mr. Sanguini, as I said, this is merely an inquest," Dumbledore noted with obviously forced patience.

"And as I said, such an inquest does not require the full Wizengamot. The fact you are all here means you can vote on Mr. Potter's status today, which means no one here remotely believes your claims. Therefore, on behalf of my clients I demand the right of cross-examination."

"What you demand is irrelevant," the broad-faced Wizengamot witch who spoke to Fudge earlier, said.

"With respect, Madam. Umbridge, it is not," Sanguini said. "Surely the Senior Undersecretary of magic is aware of the very laws she is tasked to uphold?"

"He's right, Albus," Amelia Bones said from the opposite side of the assembly from Umbridge. "While the full body is in session and can make a determining vote, all parties have a right to be heard."

Dumbledore sighed. "Very well. Proceed, Mr. Sanguini."

"Thank you, Chief Warlock," the Vampire said with a gracious nod. He turned and grinned hungrily at Hopkirk, who cleared her throat nervously. "Madam Hopkirk, I shall only take a moment more of your time. You have said that your office did not place Mr. Potter with my client. Is that correct?"

"That's right!" she said, happy to have an easy question.

"So, did your office place Mr. Potter with his previous guardians?"

Hopkirk frowned and pulled at her rings. She turned to look pleadingly at Fudge.

"Answer the question!" Sanguini suddenly snapped, eyes flashing and fangs extending.

"No!" she blurted out. "No," she said again with slumped shoulders. "We did not."

"So, to be clear, your department had no role in the placement of Mr. Potter to his previous guardians?"

"No."

"Thank you," Sanguini said. "That is all."

Harry could see that Dumbledore was fighting back irritation. Fudge did not appear happy either. "The Ministry calls Sirius Black," the Minister said.

The bearded wizard stepped out of the same side antechamber Hopkirk did, but showed no sign of nervousness at all as he sat down. "Mr. Black," Fudge said. "Please state your relationship to Mr. Potter?"

"I'm his Godfather," Sirius said. "His parents, James and Lily Potter, were my best friends. They asked me to take care of Harry if anything happened to them. It's my duty as godfather to take the boy in."

Though Kyle said it was likely Black pushing things, still it made Harry's stomach drop to hear it confirmed.

Fudge continued to ask questions regarding Black's plans for Harry, and every word appeared practiced and contrived. Worse yet, Harry could feel Black's desire in the Force. The man truly believed it was his duty to take Harry. He was not acting out of spite, but out of love and a misplaced sense of responsibility.

When Fudge was done, Sanguini once again flashed his reptilian grin. "So, Mr. Black, you have said much of duty and responsibility—both admirable qualities. Let me ask you, then. Where were you when Mr. Potter was placed with his previous guardians?"

Black's face darkened and he glared at all around him. "I was sent to Azkaban without trial!"

"Yes, a tragic story," Sanguini said. "I am glad for your sake that justice was finally done. But perhaps I wish to be more clear. What were the events that led you to be at Azkaban, rather than in possession of your godson?"

Black frowned, lost in old pain and memories, as he recounted the moments after he found Harry and his dead parents. Even Harry was astonished to learn what Black did. Sanguini, though, merely continued to grin.

"So, to be clear," Sanguini said. "You allowed a half-giant convicted criminal to take your injured and bleeding godson from the ruins of your friend's house, and instead chose to pursue Mr. Pettigrew for revenge. Would you say that is correct?"

For the first time since taking the center seat, Harry noticed Black seemed a little unsure of himself. "I suppose," he finally admitted.

"You suppose," Sanguini said. "Mr. Black, were you aware that Mr. Potter's previous guardians forced him to live in a cupboard under the stairs?"

Black stared, wide-eyed. Behind the vampire, a few of the Wizengamot members sat up in surprise. But Sanguini was just getting started. "Further, Mr. Black, were you aware that Mr. Potter was suffering from such under nutrition that he was on the verge of developing rickets in his bones and scoliosis in his spine? That he had suffered four broken limbs from his uncle, and was whipped repeatedly. That his dear aunt hit him in the head with a frying pan? That his cousin hunted him and beat him daily with a gang of Muggle youths?"

No the Wizengamot members were openly muttering to themselves while Dumbledore looked on with a stoic expression.

Black seemed to wilt. "No," he admitted, his eyes watering.

"Of course not, you were in Azkaban," Sanguini said with gradually increasing volume and tempo. "And the reason you were in Azkaban is not solely because of a miscarriage of justice, but because you put your own need for revenge ahead of the needs of your injured, newly orphaned godson!"

"I would have died for Harry!" Black screamed suddenly.

"And what good would that have done him?" Sanguini snapped back. Black sat back down as if slapped. "The point of being a Godfather is not to seek revenge or to die a noble death. It is to care for your godson. And you failed, Black! You chose revenge over caring for Harry, and as a result of that decision, you allowed Albus Perciful Wulfric Brian Dumbledore to personally place Harry with abusive, hateful, monstrous Muggles. You, Black! Not the Wizengamot, just you! And now you dare, after failing so spectacularly, to come and try to claim some right to possess Harry from the one man who saved him, gave him a home, and gave him a purpose? You are not even worth the blood in you veins!"

"That is enough!" Dumbledore snapped.

Sanguini's entire temperament changed, snapping back to the preternatural calm he showed before the cross-examination even began. "Of course, Chief Warlock," Sanguini said. "I am done with this one."

"If it pleases the Wizengamot," Amelia Bones said. "Harry Potter is a fourteen-year-old wizard. Tradition dictates he has a right to state his wishes. For my part, I am interested in his view."

"He's a child," Dumbledore countered. "It has been my experience that children are unable to determine what is in their best interests."

"My niece might argue that point with you, Chief Warlock," Bones said. "Regardless, he is old enough that we should take his desires into account, as per tradition. I wish to hear what he has to say."

Others echoed the call, until Dumbledore slammed the podium with his gavel. "Very well. Harry James Potter, take a seat, please."

With a glance to Kyle, Harry left the Respondent's box and stepped to the chair, for the first time facing the assembled Wizengamot members without Kyle. From his box behind him, Fudge was whispering with his aids furiously. "Minister?" Dumbledore said.

"We have only one question," Fudge said. "Mr. Potter, is Kyle Katarn your master?"

It was a loaded question, Harry knew. He supposed he could lie, but when he looked at Kyle, the old Jedi merely nodded. "Yes, he is," Harry said.

Dumbledore schooled his features, but Fudge did not bother and smiled happily.

"Mr. Potter," Sanguini said, "are you Master Katarn's apprentice?"

"I am," Harry said.

"Do others call Mr. Katarn 'Master'?"

"Everyone," Harry said. "He's a Jedi Master; it's his formal title, among others. He has a lot of titles. He saw me getting beat up by my cousins gang in a park and walked me back to my Aunt and Uncle's house. He spoke to them, and they agreed to give him custody of me. He made it official with the Muggle authorities. Since then, he's never spanked me or beaten me, I always have plenty of good food to eat, and I've learned more than I ever dreamed possible. One time he even took me to Blackpool."

At their confused expressions, he added, "A Muggle amusement park."

"So, you contest the popular theory that you are a slave?" Sanguini said.

"Not with Master Katarn. I was a slave with the Dursleys, but Kyle saved me from them."

Fudge no longer looked happy. "Wizards and witches, the entire discussion is moot regardless! This…this…Katarn fellow isn't even a wizard!"

"Oh?" Kyle said. His gruff voice echoed through the suddenly quiet chamber. "Care to prove that, Minister Fudge? Say, with a duel? When Dumbledore and his entire Order attempted to kidnap Harry from my home, I defeated every one of them without using lethal force. When ten wizards in black robes and silver masks attacked us in our home, we destroyed them so thoroughly not even their bones remained. So, do you really care to prove your accusation?"

At the mention of wizards in silver masks, the Wizengamot started fighting each other again.

Harry, with no further questions, rose from his seat and rejoined Kyle in the box. "Why aren't we mentioning anything about the Jedi?" He spoke just above a whisper, confident the noise in the chamber would mask his voice.

"Because these people are ignorant of the greater galaxy at large, and are not capable of believing or understanding anything beyond the horizon of their little existence."

Harry turned and looked at the fighting officials. He easily spotted Amelia Bones's allies as they tore into those of Umbridge and Fudge, while Dumbledore's faction argued against both.

"I sense Black nearby," Harry told his master. "May I speak with him?"

Kyle merely nodded. No one seemed to notice or care as Harry left the chamber and walked into the antechamber. Inside, he found Sirius Black sitting in a chair in the far corner, ignoring the softly upholstered benches nearer the door. He sat with his hands clasped and his elbows on his knees; head down.

"Mr. Black?"

Sirius looked up, and Harry saw that the man's eyes looked red and swollen. "Ah, the prodigal son," Black said bitterly. "Your master send you in here?"

"No," Harry said. "I just…I need to know something. About my parents."

"Anything!"

"Would my parents want me to be happy, Mr. Black?"

"Of course they would!" Black said, before swallowing. "They would," he added a moment later more calmly. "They loved you so much, Harry. James wept like a babe the first time he held you, and every time he saw you and your mum, he'd got all weepy and emotional. We teased him relentlessly for it, but…but I understood. You were their world, and I know they didn't think twice defending you with their lives."

Harry nodded. "Mr. Black, a few years ago, ten Death Eaters attacked us in our home. Kyle held them off, even though they were using the _Crucio_ curse on him. He held them off to protect me. He didn't think twice either. And the very next day, even though he was hurt really bad, he took me to Blackpool to help take my mind off what happened."

Sirius leaned back and rubbed his face. "He really took you away, didn't he? To another world?"

"To keep me safe."

The wizard stared down at the floor. "Sometimes, in Azkaban when the dementors were busy torturing someone else, I would dream of swooping in on my motorbike and taking you away someplace safe. Majorca, or the Americas. And I would raise you to be a good, powerful wizard, someone to make James and Lily proud."

"You don't think they'd be proud of me?" Harry asked. He couldn't help the tiny touch of worry in his voice.

Sirius heard it as well. "No, Harry, I think they would be very proud of the young man you've become. And they'd be disappointed in me for not doing my duty. The vampire was right, Harry. I chose vengeance over you. I don't…I don't deserve you."

The older wizard shot suddenly to his feet and swept by Harry as if possessed. Harry followed as they went back out into a noisy chamber filled with shouting wizards and witches. Some looked on the very of cursing each other when Black placed his wand to his voice and shouted, "Silence!"

His magically amplified voice boomed over the chamber, forcing all those within to look at him.

"After talking with my godson, the House of Black formally withdraws its petition!" Sirius continued. "Harry has proven to my personal satisfaction that he is happy and well-cared for with his current guardian. His guardian has also demonstrated he has only Harry's best interests at heart. So I withdraw my petition, and all of you old hags can go rot!"

With that, Black spun on his heel and stomped out of the chamber, leaving those within staring in shock. Harry made his way to Kyle's side. "Was that one of your plans?"

Kyle snorted. "No, I was going to drop a torp on the Hogwarts quidditch stadium to convince them not to mess with me."

Harry stared. "Really?"

"It was one of my plans," Kyle admitted dryly. "The main one was just getting a hold of a good lawyer."

"I do my best," Sanguini said with an eloquent shrug. "I have come to realize there is no better job for a blood-sucking creature of the night than the noble practice of law."

Kyle snorted, which for him was a guffaw of laughter. "You did good here. I'll await your bill."

"But…but…we can't just let the Boy Who Lived remain with this Muggle!" Umbridge called.

Harry looked up at Kyle and saw the old warrior's chin jut out. "Madam, that is the second time you've referred to me as a Muggle. Prove it. Get down here, and I will be glad to show you my magic."

Her eyes bulged. "You dare challenge the Undersecretary of Magic?"

"Put up or shut up," Kyle snapped back.

"Very well!" Umbridge said.

Harry stared in surprise, and at his glance he saw Amelia was just as surprised as the wide-bodied witch made her way down from the stands. "If this is what it takes to show you are unsuitable to have custody of a magical child, I shall gladly do my duty."

She reached the floor and instantly brandished her wand, only to have it fly out of her hand and into Kyle's. To the utter shock of all those, he snapped it. "Okay, show me your magic."

"My…my…you snapped my wand!" she howled.

"So what?" Kyle said. "I don't have one. You seem to think that makes me a Muggle. Well, you don't have one either. Are you a Muggle now?"

"Of course not!" she harrumphed.

Kyle held out a hand, and with the gesture Umbridge floated two feet off the floor. "So show me your magic, Umbridge. I'm showing you mine right now. Can you break my levitation 'charm'? Show me if you can."

"You broke my wand, how can I?" she demanded.

Kyle snorted with such scathing contempt Umbridge blushed. "And you call yourself a witch? Without a wand you are no better than the Muggles you despise. Does anyone else wish verification that I have power?"

"I think you have made yourself clear," Dumbledore said. The old wizard's shoulders looked bowed. "More importantly, the petition for guardianship has been withdrawn. Therefore the inquest is over. Thank you for your time."

Kyle let the wide-bodied witch fall the two feet back to the floor, where she stumbled and fell back on her wide backside. With that, Dumbledore left the chamber, sweeping his cronies up behind him.

"So," Kyle said as Harry stepped out of the respondent's box. "How does Thai sound?"

"Like an Imperial star fighter," Harry said.

Kyle's withering stare let Harry know what he thought of the joke. For some reason, Harry didn't care at all as he smiled brightly back.

* * *

sp

A/N: No, he didn't kick her in the head. But with people like Umbridge, what he did was worse (or better, depending on your POV). Thanks for reading.


	15. Voices from the Stars

A/N: Chap 14 review responses are in my forums like normal. Thanks for reading.

* * *

 **Chapter Fifteen: Voices from the Stars**

Blasters don't kill people, Kyle Katarn kills people

"So, how's Earth?" Anakol Skywalker asked.

Or, the holographic image of him said. With Kyle's permission, Harry took their holocom transceiver out onto the grounds following the first snowfall and found a spot near the lake sheltered from the wind by a series of fallen or tilting monoliths.

"Cold," Harry said. "I have learned a lot about my native powers, though."

"So, like making goblets walk and HRDs suddenly alive?"

"Well, not just that," he said. "I can make goblets walk. I can even turn them into animals. By the way, is the HRD still…?"

"Human? No, everything went back after you and Master Katarn left. I've never seen a droid cry before. Nik's mom was so upset she had her memory wiped just so she could function."

Harry schooled his features. Having a droid's memory wiped was tantamount to killing everything about them. "So, any news on the Sith?"

The other padawan shrugged as eloquently as any Skywalker could. "If there was, Dad hasn't told me. We're back on Ossus. You know, your girlfriend's not doing too bad."

Harry frowned. "Oh, you mean Ansaki? You know she's not my girlfriend. At least, not like that."

"I'm teasing you, Potter, Force and Stars you need to lighten up," Kol laughed. "That's why having a master who's older than the Empire is a problem."

"Hey, Kyle's great!" Harry said with some heat.

Anakol grinned before nodding. "I know. A joke. To make you lighten up."

"Er, right. So, what's Ansaki doing?"

"She managed to take Ruukis in the salle."

"No!" Harry said, astounded. Ruukis was a Barabel padawan and a vicious one at that. "How?"

"Best of three strikes. She said it was because of dad, and I think she's right. Her old master had her stuck in Soresu form. Stupid, if you ask me. With her build and speed, Dad realized she was physically better suited to Form IV, you know, Ataru?"

"That's one of my favorite forms," Harry reminded his friend. "I scored my last points off you using it."

"Yeah, yeah." Kol waived off the reminder that he himself wasn't unbeatable. "Anyway, she's become really good at it. Dad said she should be ready for her final trials in a couple of years."

"That's awesome!" Harry said, enthused. "How's Nik?"

"Still trying to find a way to get his HRDs to take their clothes off," Kol laughed. "You know, the kid hasn't even had his nuts drop, and he's already acting like a sex fiend."

Harry felt his own cheeks burn. "Well, I'm sure he'll get plenty of opportunity when he's older."

The image of his friend shrugged. "Probably. So, any cute girls where you're at?"

His cheeks burned hotter. "There are a few. They're called witches here, at least the ones with power."

"Witches, eh, like Dathomir? So, got your eye on any?"

"No, I'm only going to be here for a year. Kyle says as soon as we have the tournament obligation done, we're leaving. They actually tried to take me away from him."

"Yeah, I bet that worked out well. Hey, I got to go. But before I do, I got a surprise for you."

"What?"

"You've been named an Imperial Knight and Count of the Empire. Nik says you have an estate and lands and everything. Pretty nice, eh?"

"What about you?"

"I'm an imperial cousin, I get all that anyway if I wanted it," Kol said. "You know, second cousin to the Empress Regent and all that. Nik and I are second cousins once removed. So, maybe if Kyle wants some place to retire again, you can go there. I want to say it's on Generis in the Atrivis Sector. Used to be a Republic world, but they lost it in the Vong War, and the Alliance never bothered to try getting it back. Supposed to be real pretty."

"Wow, I'll let Kyle know," Harry said, stunned by the news. However, before he could say anything else he felt a presence in the Force. "I've got company. It was good to talk to you, Kol."

"You too, Harry. See you soon."

The connection ended just as a figure hidden underneath a thick coat, woolen scarf and cap stepped around the rock. "Oh, it's you!" It sounded like Hermione Granger's voice from underneath the scarf. She looked with interest as he placed the holocom back in his own coat. "Who were you talking to?"

"Oh, just a friend," Harry said vaguely.

"And what language was that?"

"Canadian?" he said, guessing.

She stared back, flatly. "I wasn't trying to be funny, Harry. That wasn't English or French."

"So, not Canadian? I didn't study much about Canada. They don't have their own language?"

She continued to stare. "I'm not sure if you're trying to be funny, or if you're serious. The only reason I'm giving you any benefit of the doubt is that, from what I've seen, you have no sense of humor at all."

Harry blinked at that assessment. "I do too!"

"I've never even seen you smile."

Harry smiled. "See, I can smile."

"On demand." Hermione shrugged and then adjusted her scarf. "Well, regardless, I was actually looking for Neville. He wanted some help finding a particular mushroom that only blooms in snow by the water. Have you seen him by any chance?"

Harry hadn't, but with only a little concentration he could sense another presence nearby. "I think he might be down that way."

Peering in the direction he pointed, Hermione huffed. "I can't see a thing with this snow fall."

Only then did he realize that indeed snow had begun to fall again. "Well, come in, I'll show you," he said.

"You don't have to," she protested.

"But I do. I may not have a sense of humor, but I take obligations seriously. You've been very helpful to me, so I don't mind helping you." Harry opened his mouth to say more when he realized he sounded petulant. "I guess… Well, you're right about that, anyway. My friend Kol is always telling me to lighten up and have fun."

"Was that him you were speaking to? Do you have a telephone? I didn't think Muggle electronics worked on Hogwarts."

They started walking along the snowy banks of the lake, looking at the creeping ice. "Kyle has access to really good technology," he finally said.

For a long moment, the only sound was their footsteps crunching through the icy top-layer of the snow. Finally, unable to handle the silence, Hermione said, "So you're not a slave, then?"

"Not that I'm aware," Harry said. He too read the very brief article in the paper that simply said the inquiry found no actionable cause. "Kyle's my master only in the sense that I'm his apprentice. The Order I belong to does have an academy, but our style of magic is very personal. We go to classes to learn sciences and common subjects, but the magic itself is always taught one-on-one."

"That sounds marvelous," Hermione said, and he could tell she meant it. "I always hoped I would be able to apprentice with Professor McGonagall, but she told me that Hogwarts Professors are prohibited from taking on apprentices because they are all too busy."

In the distance a humped form began to take shape from the white-out, until they came upon a thoroughly bundled Neville Longbottom using his wand to charm large, dark-blue mushrooms out of the snow. "Hermione!" he said. His voice sounded abruptly loud in the quiet of the snowfall. "I was hoping you wouldn't get lost. And…who is that?"

"It's Harry," Hermione said. He tone was so dry Harry was surprised it didn't evaporate the snow. "He was speaking to his friend on some type of telephone in Canadian."

"Canadian?" Neville asked, wide-eyed. "They have their own language now? When did that happen?"

Hermione harrumphed. "Boys! Did you find all you needed?"

"Oh?" Neville blinked before looking down. "Oh, yes! A wonderful batch. Professor Sprout will be pleased. It is rather cold, though. I was going to go back before the snow got any thicker."

"That's a good idea," Harry said. "The visibility is actually getting worse."

The three of them started way from the edge of the lake. To his left, Harry could see the dark shadows of tall trees that marked the boundary of the forest. They were closer to the tree line than he had realized while speaking with Hermione. Perhaps that explained the uncomfortable tremor he felt in the Force.

The tremor suddenly became a clarion as a shadow lurched suddenly from the trees. Hermione squealed in surprise and Neville stumbled as a man fell directly into their path. Harry sensed pain and confusion as he rushed forward and knelt down by the figure. "My fault, all my fault!" the man blabbered.

Harry felt at the man's head and sensed he had a fever. His uncontrolled shivers were strong enough to border on convulsions. Despite the cold, all he wore was a pair of woolen slacks and a torn, blood-stained shirt.

"Hermione, a warming charm?" Harry asked.

She complied with ease. The shivering, however, didn't stop. The man's fever was advanced. "It's all my fault," the man continued. His face looked thin and emaciated, and dirty with a week's worth of beard.

"Wow, that's Barty Crouch!" Neville said.

"You mean from Halloween night?" Hermione asked. She looked again. "I think you're right, Neville. But how did he…?"

The surge of absolute peril that rang through the Force was the only thing that gave Harry the time to push Neville down and leap over Hermione as a streak of red light flashed through the air. Ignoring Hermione's cry, he rolled to his feet and ignited his lightsaber as a new figure approached.

The man claiming to be Mad Eye Moody stomped into view, his eye spinning wildly. His wand was in his hand as he approached. "Put whatever the hell that is away, Potter. I'm going to take Barty there to the Hospital Wing."

Even if he didn't know the man had a soul as dark as pitch, the story would have rung false. "You're remarkably well informed, Professor Moody," Harry said carefully. "We only just now found him."

"I said put that thin down," Moody snapped.

"No, I don't believe I will," Harry said. "Not until Kyle gets here."

"Boy, are you challenging me?" Moody stomped closer. "I've been fighting dark wizards me entire life. You think one snot-nosed little brat is going to stop me? You're so called master doesn't even know we're here."

Harry could see the man's body change as he realized what he was saying. Muscles bunched in his shoulders and his good foot splayed out slightly as he lashed his wand out. This time, Harry recognized the magic as a stunning spell and made no effort to protect Neville as it slammed him into the snow. "Neville!" Hermione wailed.

Though it was calculating of him, Harry thought to allow Moody to stun the two students to make it easier for Harry to act. But the sound of her anguish suddenly changed the equation for him, because with it came a sharp vision of her flying through the air because of a troll's club.

The second flash of magic was already moving toward her, faster than she could hope to dodge or shield. Without a second thought, Harry burst into motion and slapped the spell away with his lightsaber. "Get behind Crouch," he ordered her. She did so, pausing only to grab Neville and drag him with her. Harry remained between them at Moody.

"You're being a fool, Potter," Moody growled. "Stand down and I'll forget this ever happened."

"You stand down until Kyle arrives, and then you can explain it to him," Harry countered.

Another stunner, only this time Moody followed with almost a dozen other spells. The Force flowed through Harry's limbs as he deflected each. Although they flew straight, unlike blasters the magical spells simply dissipated against this blade. However, that alone was enough.

But just as he was beginning to think he could handle himself, the snow around his feet solidified and shot up as a sharpened stake. Harry bit back a cry as the point of it stabbed deeply into his calf muscle. The second spell had no light he could see, but he remembered it with bitter clarity.

" _Crucio_!" Moody snarled.

Pain seared through his veins. He could not have stopped his scream even if his life depended on it. His lightsaber fell from convulsing hands before he followed it into the snow. The cold did nothing to stop the agonizing heat of the pain cursing through his body. Despite feeling like an eternity, the curse lasted only a few seconds.

"I told you, Potter. You were being a fool." Moody negligently cast a stunner, but to both his and Harry's surprise, a blue _Protego_ shield appeared in front of him. Hermione stumbled as she tried to move closer, and in so doing lost control of the protection, but it lasted long enough to absorb the stunner.

The man growled his irritation and flicked his wand to curse her when Harry lashed out with the one Force power he had never previously been able to use. White lightning flared from his fingertips, and with its passage through his body the pain evaporated. The blast struck Moody and sent him flying backward into the snow.

Before the man could recover, Harry summoned his lightsaber and leaped forward, intending at the least to destroy the wizard's wand. But he underestimated his opponent. Mid-air, Moody slashed his wand. It felt to Harry as if he'd been hit was a battering ram and he went somersaulting wildly through the air. He recovered just enough to land in a roll before jumping back to his feet.

Moody had moved again toward Hermione and Mr. Crouch. Desperately Harry tried Force-pulling the man's wand. Moody's whole arm jerked, but the wand didn't come. "Hah, I read about that trick, Potter," he said. "If Umbridge had been worth the name witch, she'd have put an anti-summing charm on her wand. Let's see if you did!"

Harry's lightsaber suddenly jerked out of his hand. Without hesitation, he gripped it with the Force and pulled it right back.

Moody grunted. "Not bad. No matter." He turned his wand, and with a word Hermione was screaming with the same agony Harry felt only moments before.

"No!" With a surge of Force speed Harry exploded into a leap, moving faster than even Moody could respond to. He spun in mid-air and struck the professor with a powerful side-kick to the head. He followed up with a slash of his saber that Moody just barely shielded against.

What followed was an exercise in delaying tactics. Harry attacked strongly, slipping into Form V despite it not being his strongest form, simply because it was unrelenting. The constant swings forced Moody onto the defensive, having to maintain his magical shield to deflect the lightning-fast swipes of Harry's lightsaber.

In the back of his mind, he could feel Kyle coming as fast as he could, but they were very far away from the campus, and as powerful as Kyle was, at over a century he was no longer a fast sprinter.

His delaying tactics came to a surprising end as Moody deflected a swing of his sword to one side with his shield charm and then punched him hard in the face. Harry stumbled back, more surprised than hurt, when another of those battering-ram spells struck him in the chest and sent him flying.

Harry landed in the snow a foot from the still gasping and sobbing Hermione. For the longest time he struggled to draw breath and began to panic when he could not.

"I'll give you this, boy, you put up a good fight." Moody himself was panting as he stomped through the thick snow toward the struggling Harry. He paused and strangely sipped from a canteen he pulled from one coat. "But it's not enough. Nice to have Longbottom here. Get to finish some old business."

"And what would that be?"

Harry finally sucked in a breath. "Master, watch out!"

But Kyle Katarn already had his lavender lightsaber burning as he walked toward them through the snow. "I was wondering when you would show your black heart, Moody. Is that even your real name? Dumbledore said you were a light wizard. He's too good to be caught in an outright lie, so there has to be a reason why your soul is so dark and twisted."

Moody didn't bother to respond. Instead, he lashed his wand and cast the pain spell.

Kyle responded with lightning, but it wasn't the white of Harry's. Kyle's power in the Force always bordered perilously close to the Dark Side. He knew himself well enough to no longer fear falling, but at times his power was Sith-like.

The power that struck Moody was much like the power the old Emperor, Darth Sideous, was famed for using. It was not just simple electricity. It was a telepathic and telekinetic thunderbolt that sent the disabled wizard flying back against the nearby boulders.

Kyle for his part grunted at the brief exposure of the torture curse but then shrugged it off as only a true master could. "Are you okay, Harry?"

"I tried to protect them, Kyle," Harry said, unable to hide the emotion in his voice. "But I failed. He cursed her."

"She's still alive, Harry," Kyle said. "You did well." The old Jedi continued past them toward Moody, who despite the sheer power of Kyle's attack was already stirring.

"You're a fool, Katarn!" Moody screamed at him. "Do you think you can protect him? Do you think you can even protect yourself! No one wants you here. You're nothing. You're nobody. _Avada Kedavra!"_

"No!" Hermione screamed in horror.

Kyle simply side-stepped the curse, reached out a hand, and made a fist. Moody lifted off the ground clutching desperately at his closed throat. "I'm not going to kill you just yet, Moody," Kyle said. "I want to know the full story first. But you put my padawan in danger. One way or another, you are going to pay for that crime."

The old Jedi jerked his arm. Moody flew toward him just in time to receive a powerful side-kick to his face. The ex-auror flipped once before coming face-down right into the snow. He did not move.

Kyle summoned the man's wand from the snow and snapped it before making his way to the three students. He knelt down to Neville and placed a hand on the boy's forehead. Neville jerked once before his eyes snapped open and he shouted in alarm.

Kyle ignored him before moving on to Hermione. "Can you walk?"

She wiped her nose with her scarf, but nodded. "I don't understand, why did Professor Moody attack us?"

"He wanted this man, would be my guess," Kyle said with a motion to the now unconscious Crouch. With a grunt at the effort, he pulled Crouch onto his shoulder. "Harry, I need you to levitate Moody with me back to the castle."

Harry nodded and fought back the lingering pain in his chest. However, rather than using the Force he searched for and found his wand. _"Wingardium Leviosa_ ," he intoned. Somehow, it took less concentration using magic than the Force, while working just as good.

"Well done, Harry," Hermione said. Her voice still sounded thick with her own lingering pain.

"I had good notes to work with."

The three of them carried their grim burdens through the snow to Hogwarts. As they approached the gate, Kyle said, "Miss Granger, Mister Longbottom, I'm think you should return directly to your dorm."

"Why?" Hermione asked. "We can give testimony!"

"Because it's dangerous, Hermione," Harry said. "I already got you cursed once. I don't want you and Neville to get hurt again."

"Harry, you didn't get me cursed. It was that…that…"

"Man who entered Harry into the tournament," Kyle finished for her. "Go back to your dorms, you two. For your own safety."

"Hermione, he's right," Neville said softly. He'd missed the entire fight, but saw the after effects well enough. "Wizards who use the _Cruciatus_ curse are dark. We don't want to be anywhere near him when he wakes up."

Harry watched as a flurry of emotions flitted across the girl's face. "Oh fine," she muttered. She started to turn away before, without warning, she suddenly hugged Harry. "Thank you for saving me, Harry." She then kissed his cheek before moving on with Neville.

Harry reached up, too stunned to speak, and felt at his cheek. He then noticed Kyle staring at him.

"Oh please, like you have any room to talk," Harry muttered.

Kyle snorted. "Come on, let's get to the hospital wing."

* * *

sp

Thanks for reading.


	16. Plots and Motivation

A/N: Chap 15 Review responses are in my forums. I know I don't respond to every single review, but I do read them, and if there's ever a question or comment I didn't get to, you're welcome to post it in the forums.

* * *

 **Chapter Sixteen: Plots and Motivation**

Chuck Norris tells Kyle Katarn jokes.

"Do you think I'm too serious?" Harry asked. He waited, but his reflection chose not to answer. The repeated comments from Anakol and then Hermione were weighing on Harry's mind as he left his and Kyle's room to audit arithmancy.

Kyle spent the remainder of that previous Sunday in a secure ward of the hospital wing with the director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, three aurors, two Wizengamot members, and Cornelius Fudge. Though Harry hadn't seen his master at all that night or the following morning, he could sense scintillating waves of irritation and exhaustion from the man.

Left largely to his own devices, Harry decided to continue to audit classes. Though a part of him hated to admit it, he found magic incredibly fascinating. Having spent the past five, almost six years learning the Force through internal control, it amazed him that his native people had instead found ways to shape the Force, or the internalized aspect of it that seemed to be unique to them, using mere words and wands. Arithmancy itself was incredible—it was the closest thing to a mathematical explanation of power he'd ever seen. In many ways, it even reminded him of some of the more esoteric physics involved in hyperspace travel and the generation of hypermatter and other exotic materials. In a real way, it was as if the wizards and witches of earth found a cheap short cut to Force powers.

Even as he audited the class with his peers, though, he let the lecture flow directly into his internalized library and instead spent the class observing children he might have otherwise grown up with, if he'd attended Hogwarts. Being an elective, the class had people from almost every house. Well, Hermione was the only Gryffindor, but there was a sprinkling of Hufflepuffs and Slytherins, not to mention a heavy presence of Ravenclaws. Being a somewhat intensive subject, they all listened attentively. But as soon as the class ended, many laughed or joked with each other as they stored away their things.

"Are you coming to the advanced studies?" he heard someone ask. He didn't recognize the girl, but she had Hufflepuff robes.

It was Hermione who answered. "No, after last month's lesson I'm cleaned out on my discretionary funds for the term. I have to save a little for essentials. What about you?"

"Yeah, I'll be there representing the Fourth Years. It's awesome that Professor Vector's letting us play."

It surprised Harry how much will it took to interject. "Study group?"

The two girls looked at Harry with wide-eyes. "Oh," the other girl, who had shoulder-length red hair, said. "I don't…"

"It's gambling, Harry," Hermione explained matter-of-factly. "A card game. Ours is the lower year game. We play for knuts and sickles. The real game is Friday night and its seventh years only. They play for galleons. Supposedly it's a real life application of arithmancy, but mainly it's just fun."

"You could come!" the red-head blurted. She blushed and looked from Harry to Hermione. "I mean, couldn't he? He's auditing the class, and Professor Vector doesn't seem to care which house people come from."

"I wouldn't want to intrude," Harry said.

Hermione snorted. "I can't play tonight anyway, so they'll be short a player. They'd probably be happy to have you. Let's check. Professor?"

Vector, a severe-looking witch with black hair and the stereotypical conical witches hat, albeit one in a wine-color, did not bother looking up from whatever she was reading on her desk. "Anyone who attends class may come," she said.

"Well there you have it!" The Hufflepuff said. "It's in the west wing, fourth floor. Bring at least twenty sickles!"

She flounced out of the room, leaving Harry wondering what he got himself into. Hermione just rolled her eyes. They left the room together. "How's your leg?"

Harry flexed his calf. "A little sore, but Madam Pomfrey was able to heal it quickly. How about you?"

Hermione pushed a thick strand of hair over her ears. "I'll be fine, I'm sure. It's certainly not every day someone gets _crucio'd_."

"Get used to it, Granger."

Harry and Hermione both looked up to see a packet of students in Gryffindor robes walking by. It was the pretty Slytherin blonde, Daphne, who tossed the comment over her shoulder as they passed. Hermione glared but said nothing.

"Does that happen a lot?"

She shrugged. "Half the children in Slytherin house had Death Eater parents. I guess it's not surprising. Even some of so called 'light' families aren't particularly nice."

Harry considered that as they walked. "Why?"

"Because I'm Muggleborn," she finally said after a long, thoughtful pause. "I didn't understand it at first, but as I've grown I think I'm beginning to understand. They're afraid of what I represent."

"And that is?"

"Change." She paused and swept an arm around them. "Look around, what do you see?"

Harry looked. All around were ancient paintings of people from bygone eras, suits of armor, tapestries and torches. The torches burned with an everlasting, smokeless flame, but nonetheless they were still torches. "I see the same thing I saw when the Wizengamot tried to take me away from Kyle—stagnation."

Hermione blinked as if surprised, but then smiled. "Precisely! We live and go to school in a museum of the past. In my second year, I checked and found that there has not been a change or update to the curriculum of Hogwarts in over a century! And the last change was to stop teaching Alchemy and battle magic! And it's not just Hogwarts. I've spoken to a few of the French students and they say the same thing. Magical society is dying, and people like me are a reminder of that fact. It's painful to them. And so instead of dealing with the message, they choose to hate the messenger."

"An apt, if somewhat simplistic, explanation, Miss Granger."

Hermione's eyes widened and she made a little " _EEP"_ before she turned to see Professor Dumbledore standing behind them with a twinkle in his blue eyes.

Harry too was startled by the old man's appearance, but only because he did not feel his approach in the Force. "Good morning, Headmaster," he said neutrally.

"Good morning to both of you as well. Mr. Potter, I was wondering if you could walk with me back to my office. Mr. Katarn is there waiting."

"Of course, sir. I'll see you later, Hermione."

"Yeah, see you soon."

She fled the scene, leaving the two wizards alone. "Have we learned anything from Mr. Crouch?"

"Quite a lot, to be sure," Dumbledore said. He started walking toward his office and Harry fell in beside him. "And I'm sure we will be discussing that soon enough. However, I wish to speak to you about the Wizengamot hearing."

"I'm not sure…"

"Mr. Potter, please hear me out. I wish to apologize."

Harry blinked back his surprise. "Apologize, sir?"

The two of them walked slowly through the hall; the old wizard's head was bowed down, mashing his beard against his chest. "Sirius told me about what the two of you discussed in the antechamber," Dumbledore continued. "I will admit the question of custody was not at his impetus alone. You are, after all, prophesized to be the one to destroy Voldemort. I'm afraid I have always viewed you as much as a weapon as a child, and always assumed you would be there. My somewhat myopic vision is a failing I've been accused of before. That was why I placed you where I did as a child. I knew I would be condemning you to many years of unhappiness, but with the ward I drew up there you would have been safe from Voldemort or his followers."

"But not from the Dursleys," Harry noted.

"Indeed." The old man paused for a moment before reaching down and rubbing his knee. He continued a moment later, Harry still at his side. "I further compounded the issue by reading into Mr. Katarn motives I myself possessed. That is, I was certain he had some ulterior motive for abducting you."

"You don't understand the Jedi, Professor," Harry said. "What you call magic, we call the Force. And for those trained in its ways, it really can guide us. Kyle had no idea why the Force drew him to that part in Little Whinging. He didn't know until he saw me getting beat up."

Dumbledore peered over the rim of his glasses at Harry. "And can you, Mr. Potter, tell where this 'Force'of yours guides you?"

"Sometimes," Harry said. "I knew I was going to return here someday. I had visions of when Ginny Weasley died. And when Hermione was hurt by that troll in the bathroom."

"Really? How fascinating." More amazingly still, Harry sensed nothing but genuine fascination from the wizard. "How utterly fascinating. It makes one wonder if your fate was somehow tied to theirs. Young Ginevra especially needed a hero." He sobered and reached up to rub an eye. "I tend to ramble as I get older. Regardless, Sirius told me that you and Kyle actually did care a great deal for each other. I've come to see this for myself, which made me realize that the motives I assigned to Mr. Katarn were entirely my own. And so, I apologize. I have let the other members of the Wizengamot know that the question of custody is settled."

After everything the old man had done, Harry was unsure if he could take him at face value or not. He felt only genuine regret from the wizard, and yet… "And why are you telling me this, Headmaster?"

"While my methods may not always be the best, I am not your enemy, Harry," Dumbledore said. "Nor am I the enemy of Master Katarn. Fate and circumstance has placed me at the forefront of a war, and I am doing my very best to fight it with the tools at hand without becoming the monster I fight."

Harry said nothing as they had reached the headmaster's office. Together, they stepped onto the magically ascending spiral stairs until they reached the office. Inside, Harry was startled to see a despondent Fudge slouched in a plush chair with a large, full tumbler of flaming alcohol in his hand. Amelia Bones stood frowning nearby, hands clasped behind her back as if she were at military rest.

Kyle sat in the chair opposite Fudge, and Harry could see the man fighting his ever-growing exhaustion. Dark rings hung under his eyes and his iron-gray hair hung limp from his scalp. The three of them looked up as Harry and Dumbledore entered the room.

Harry, now fully aware that something terrible had happened, gravitated without a word to his master's side. The fire flared, and a moment later Sirius Black walked into the office, followed a moment later by the old, crotchety woman from the Wizengamot, and another equally old man. Sirius wore an oddly anachronistic collection of pinstripe suit and modern button-up with a bowtie. The man wore a pair of brown corduroy slacks, a painfully bright orange shirt and a lime green wizard's robe over it.

The woman wore a severe black dress, but also wore a wide-brimmed had with a stuffed vulture on it as decoration.

"We're here," the woman said snappishly. "What's all this about, Albus?"

"Augusta, Tiberius, please sit down," Dumbledore said. "While I know you saw each other at the hearing, Mr. Potter, Master Katarn, may I introduce Madam Augusta Longbottom and Mister Tiberius Ogden, both leading members of the Wizengamot and long-time friends of mine."

"Yes, yes, we know," Augusta Longbottom said in the same irritated voice Harry remembered from the hearing. "Now what's this about?"

"He-who-must-not-be-named has returned," Fudge moaned. He then drained half the tumbler of firewhiskey. Harry watched with interest as his face reddened to an unnatural degree, followed a moment later by belch of flame. No one seemed to think it unusual.

The two newcomers, in fact, looked at each other with wide-eyes. "What did you say?"

"Master Katarn here captured Barty Crouch Jr, alive and well, impersonating a professor here at Hogwarts," Dumbledore explained. "While it is a long and tragic story, the end of it is that Barty Senior broke his son out of Azkaban and kept the boy under the _imperius_ rather than leave him in Azkaban to die. It did not work. From Junior's veritaserum testimony, we have learned that Voldemort has created a new body for himself, albeit a weak one, and intends on creating a stronger form for himself this year using Mr. Potter's blood."

"But…how can this be, Albus?" Tiberius asked in a tremulous voice.

"I do not know for certain, but we do know that he often bragged of becoming immortal," Dumbledore said.

"Be that as it may, right now we know where he is, and we know he's weak," Amelia said. "This is the time to strike."

Fudge moaned, now thoroughly in his cups.

Amelia pointed at the minister before glaring at the two Wizengamot members. "And that is why you're here. The Minister is no longer fit to decide the matter, but the decision must be made. With your factions and mine, we can get the raid authorized even without the Minister's approval. We need to do this before the enemy finds out his plan has been compromised!"

"Do we even have enough aurors to do it?" Ogden asked.

"Not really, but we have more now than we would if we let this blow into a full-scale war," Amelia said. "And Albus has pledged his own people, plus we'd have Master Katarn with us, since he's ably proved himself to be a fighter. There is no choice here. We need to strike now if we have any hope of preventing this from escalating like it did last time. And by now, I mean _right_ now. Tonight if possible."

Augusta Longbottom slapped both hands on her knees. "You have my vote. That… that… monster and his followers robbed me of my son and daughter in law. I'll not have it again."

Ogden looked from his colleague to the rest around the room before sighing. "Yes, fine. You have my vote. And then we're going to have to have a discussion about Cornelius's future. This is not the behavior I expect from a Minister of Magic."

Fudge moaned again before training his cup and belching more fire.

"Thank you," Amelia said. "We'll stage everything right here. I'll be back soon with what aurors I can trust. We leave within the hour." With that, she turned and virtually ran into the billow of green flame.

Kyle stood without a word, nodded to Dumbledore, and took Harry by the shoulder. Harry sensed his master wished to speak but not where paintings and elves could hear. When they were back in their suite, he pushed Harry even further back into Kyle's persona quarters, which were as Spartan as Harry would have expected of his master.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked.

"It doesn't feel right, any of this," Kyle said.

"You think it's a trap?"

"Yes. But it's also too great an opportunity to pass up. Dumbledore's entire interest in you is as a weapon against this dark lord of theirs. If we can destroy him now, I have no doubt Dumbledore would let you go. But the situation just doesn't feel right."

"Who all knows?"

"Those who were in the room, plus Dumbledore's lapdog, Snape, who administered their truth potion. We found the real Moody at the bottom of Crouch's traveling trunk, alive and delirious with thirst and hunger."

As he spoke, Kyle's eyes crossed the holocom. With sudden determination, he grabbed it, and then began gathering their other non-Terran gear. Harry, without question, went to his room to do the same. When he returned with his belongings, there was a pile on Kyle's bed of flimsis, holocoms, the remote vambrace that could order down the _Preening Crow_ , and several other odds and ends.

"These things are our lifeline off this world," Kyle said. "If anything were to happen to me, I could see someone trying to confiscate them to keep you isolated. We need these things protected."

"How?"

"Sanguini. He has offices on Knockturn Alley, just off Diagon. I'm going to get this to him before Amelia gets back. In the meantime, keep your lightsaber with you at all times. Do whatever you must to keep it."

"I understand, Kyle," Harry said. His worry must have shown in his face because Kyle reached over and took his shoulder in his hands.

"There is risk in every great thing, Harry. Tonight is no different. I'll be careful, just like I want you to be. If anything happens to me, I want you to com Anakol and tell him that you need help, okay? Ben will come."

Mutely, Harry gave his master a nod. Kyle, however, was already placing everything in one of his rucksacks. With a final nod to Harry, the old Jedi stepped out of the room. At no point was there even a discussion of Harry taking part in the fight, nor did he question it. It was Kyle's job to teach and protect him, and it was Harry's job to learn until he was ready to protect himself.

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

Harry struggled to meditate. His mind kept spinning back to what was likely happening right at that moment. Around him, the Force swirled chaotically, giving nothing.

"There is no emotion, there is peace," Harry whispered to himself, as if by saying it aloud he could make it true. Except there was emotion. He felt emotion even among the masters at Ossus. Master Skywalker loved his wife and son with all the passion a human was capable of. And though Harry tried, he felt a strong, stabbing fear for his master despite the tenant of no emotion.

The sound of a fist against his door convinced him to give up meditation as a lost cause. With a glance at the chronometer on his wrist, he flowed up back to his feet and crossed to the door. He opened it up with trepidation, keeping his free hand on his lightsaber.

Hermione stood outside the door. "Susan was wondering if you were still going to the game tonight."

 _Game?_ "Oh," he said, suddenly remembering. "I don't know if I should any more. Kyle is outside of the castle and…"

Hermione's expression dulled. "Oh, well, I understand. I'll let her know you can't make it."

 _Lighten up, Potter_. He could almost hear Anakol's laugh in his mind, and if nothing else it would distract him from what was happening. "Wait! Let me grab some credits…I mean, er, money!"

He missed her smile as he ducked into the room. "What the stars am I doing?" he whispered to himself. Even so, it did not stop him from searching for and finding his purse of local coinage. Moments later, he and Hermione were walking through the castle. Dinner was just finished, though Harry did not eat since his nervousness destroyed his appetite.

When they reached the Arithmancy class, Harry was surprised to see people from every house there, from the third years to the sixth years. The desks and chairs were gone, replaced by three large oval tables with eight chairs around each. Against a far wall he saw a bar filled with various snacks and a large bowl of punch.

"Are you going to play after all?" Harry asked.

"Oh, no. I lost rather badly last time," Hermione said. "I'm good enough playing, but I don't do well with the betting part. Worse yet, I lost to Greengrass on a bluff." From her tone alone, Harry could tell she still carried a grudge.

Rather than simply a large poker game, Professor Vector ran a small tournament. Harry received a set number of chips in return for his sickles, and those would be what he bet with. The game itself was astonishingly simple, being something Professor Vector learned while studying at Salems for her Mastery in the subject.

The challenge came with the betting. Fortunately, since Hermione was out of the hand she volunteered to be dealer to be at the table. Harry folded his first few hands just so he could watch the other players at the table. Given his age, he was actually one of the younger players—most were fifth and sixth years. Those were the most aggressive players.

It wasn't until he saw a bluff actually called that Harry realized why some players won more than others. It was a lot like Sabbac, with players purposely betting to misrepresent their hands. With a grin, he placed his bet and entered his first hand.

And lost. And lost again. After a third lost hand, though, he began to see the patterns and behaviors. It was not just enough to read the other players, but he also had to have the cards to play.

After he made that realization, he started playing better. While Harry absolutely refused to use the Force to predict someone's hand, he had no problem using his training on body-language to decide whether to call bluffs or not.

After the first hour of play, he wore a constant smile on his face. He was surrounded by kids his own age who were laughing, eating snacks and drinking punch while sharing in a common game. Some kids would moan when they lost, or shout and carry on when they won, but never to excess for fear of being banned from future games.

During one of the hourly breaks, Hermione said, "You're doing really well, Harry. Are you having fun?"

"I am," he admitted. "Thanks for letting me come."

Hermione's cheeks reddened as she sipped her punch. "I'm glad you came. I'm also glad Professor Vector let me deal. It's fun to be a part of the game, even if I can't play myself."

Just then Susan, the flushed red-head, walked up to Harry grinning. "I saw your chip stack! You're doing really good!"

"Thank you," Harry said.

With an exuberant squeal, Susan suddenly hugged Harry before quickly retreating. "Wow," Hermione said, a little wide-eyed. "What is she drinking?"

Ten minutes into the second hour, play was interrupted to consolidate three tables into two. Hermione remained as the dealer for Harry's table, but now Daphne Greengrass was at the table, and she had more chips than anyone else there. And after only two hands Harry began to see why. She was a relentless better, using her chip stack to raise the stakes so quickly the other players often folded with patently better hands. The entire time, she played with a knowing smirk on her face.

The cards didn't matter to her—she was playing her opponents, not their hands.

During the fifth hand, after raising the bet enough to drive everyone else out, Harry called her bet and they saw the cards on the table. Without looking at her cards, Daphne bet half the value of the already inflated pot.

Harry made a point of looking at his cards, though he knew he completely missed the flop. Looking back up at Daphne, he couldn't help but smirk himself as he moved the rest of his stack in. Being the second largest, it would have meant a huge blow if he won.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she said. "You don't go over the top when raised before and after the flop!"

Harry shrugged. "I just thought I was supposed to bet when I have the best hand."

With a disgusted sigh, Daphne threw her cards down.

The next hand, he did the same thing. Once again, Daphne threw her cards down even though Harry had nothing. Four more hands after that, however, Harry did have something. He had a suited ace and ten, and when the flop came after Daphne again inflated the bet, he found himself looking at a full house.

Daphne once more bet huge and drove out the rest of the table. And once again Harry pushed all-in. "Not this time," she snarled. She pushed in the remainder of her stack, since by that time he actually had a little more than she did.

She turned over two tens. "Beat a full house, Potter!"

"Okay."

Her eyes bulged when Harry revealed a higher full house using the same cards on the table, and a chorus of "Oooohhhhs!" flowed around the tale. Daphne paled as if struck. "You're cheating! There's no way you could have that hand! Professor Vector, Potter is cheating!"

Without looking up from the other table where she acted as dealer, Vector said, "The tables are warded against cheating, Greengrass, and that accusation is enough. You're no longer invited to these games. Leave. Now!"

"When my father hears about this…"

"I kicked him out as a sixth-year," Vector snapped back. "Get out before I have the wards eject you."

Snarling, Daphne grabbed her bag and stalked out. When she left, the other players at the table applauded Harry, who was now the chip leader. He grinned and thanked them, and then bowed over as if struck when the Force exploded in agony around him.

* * *

sp

Yes, a cliffhanger. It's what I do. Thanks for reading.


	17. There is Only The Force

A/N: Please see note at the bottom. Review Responses are in my forums as normal.

* * *

 **Chapter Seventeen: There is only the Force**

There is no Death, there is only Kyle Katarn

Kyle, Amelia Bones and their unit of twelve aurors and hit wizards arrived at the town of Little Hangleton an hour after sunset. Almost immediately after the magic of the portkey faded away, every one of them was soaked to the bone due to a heavy downpour.

"Well this is nice," the old Jedi grumped.

"It definitely ruins your beard," Amelia said dryly. "It looks clumpy now."

"Shush, before I take you over my knee and spank you."

The youngest of their party, who happened to also be the Dumbledore agent who met them at the remains of their house, whistled. "Something we oughta' know, boss?"

"We'll tell you when you're out of diapers," Amelia snapped back, to the low chuckles of the rest of the team.

The team itself was small, and consisted only of those aurors and hit wizards Amelia herself vetted. The ages ranged from the young trainee Nymphadora Tonks, to the creaky but experienced Hit Wizard Alastor Gumboil. They numbered fourteen altogether—twelve aurors and hit wizards that the Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement trusted, out of a staff of almost two hundred, plus Kyle and Amelia herself.

But for their low numbers, Kyle recognized in the older members the casual competence that came with knowledge, skill and experience. While Tonks did not have experience, she came with her own set of unique skills and abilities, not to mention a quiet courage that Kyle couldn't help but admire. She reminded him of Jan Ors, actually.

They all seemed to see in Kyle the same as he saw in them, which was not surprising. Jan always told him that he projected a certain air that made enemies nervous and allies more confident.

He was also pleased that no one made any complaints about the rain but him. Just ahead, through a line of scraggly trees, they could see Voldemort's hideout, a rickety old manor house that had seen better days. If not for a dim light on the upper floor, Kyle would have thought it abandoned.

As they watched, a shadow moved in front of the light, but only for a moment. It seemed compelling proof that their targets were inside. And yet, through the rain-saturated air, Kyle felt a deep sense of foreboding like he'd not felt since he faced Jacen Solo, who unknown to him at the time had fallen wholly to the Dark Side and had become Sith. He barely survived that encounter, but he remembered the warning he received beforehand.

"Amelia," he said quietly to the DMLE director. "I feel that our mission has been compromised. Someone told him we're coming."

Bones froze mid-step, turned and stared at him with one elegantly arched brow. Kyle couldn't help but admire the strength of her gaze. If she were born in the greater galaxy, she would likely be an admiral or better. "Any proof?"

"Only my limited prescience," he said. "You have to admit, the set-up is just too good to be true."

That seemed to shake her, but only because she realized it too, however much she wished to deny it. "I know. But Kyle, we can't let this chance go."

"Then let's simplify matters," he said. He reached into his jacket and removed a black ball roughly twice the size of a cricket ball.

"What's that?"

"Variable-yield Thermal detonator. Like a Muggle grenade, only about twenty-times more powerful when dialed up to full power. This one is even more so—it's a spec made for New Republic special forces during a pretty vicious war. It can level that house."

"So, what, we just blow it up?"

"We surround it," Kyle said. "You people magic-yourselves invisible, hunker down, and wait to see what happens _while_ I blow it up. If after ten minutes nothing happens, we sift through the debris for signs of the enemy. But if it is a trap, maybe we can turn it on our enemies."

Amelia stared long and hard at the grenade. "Do you always carry around powerful explosives?"

Grinning, Kyle said, "Actually, yeah, a lot of the time I do."

With a snort, the director signaled the rest of their team to gather closer. As they gathered around, she filled them in on the new plan. While most cast speculative glances at Kyle, even the youngest there was smart enough to know not rushing into a potential death trap was better than rushing in. So, with their orders set, the aurors and hit wizards _disillusioned_ themselves, reducing themselves to barely visible shimmers in the rain as they spread out around the town. Amelia made herself invisible as well, but remained close to Kyle.

When she gave the signal, Kyle flipped the switch to start the count down, but did not throw it. Instead, he harnessed the Force and levitated the grenade toward the building, accelerated it through the small fan-shaped window above the front door until it levitated just underneath the first floor.

The detonator ignited.

Unlike the Earth grenades that Kyle compared it to, the thermal detonator did not so much explode as it erupted in a limited fusion reaction that created a particle field that would atomize any non-conductive material within the blast radius. In the case of the Voxyn Special grenade Kyle used, that blast radius was one hundred feet.

In a wooden structure, the effects were devastating.

The center of Riddle Manor disappeared in a blinding white flash of expanding energy. While the blast radius was only one hundred feet, the concussive shock wave of air displaced in a hundredth of a nano-second tore the manor apart in a spectacular _BOOM_ that leveled even Kyle. He sat up, chuckling, and said, "Little ball, big boom."

From the seemingly empty air nearby, he could hear shock in Amelia's voice. "And you carry those things around?"

"Where I'm from, a destroyed city is collateral damage. You really only take notice when worlds start to burn."

It was ironic, Kyle would think later, that the world around him would suddenly explode in fire. While this new blast did not have the concussive force of his grenade, it still slammed into Kyle's aged, beaten frame like a hammer blow. The Jedi stumbled and then had to fall into a roll to keep from falling on his face. He glanced up to see a spray of blood and then a shimmer as Donella Murchison appeared nearby, eyes wide and the gash in her neck wider. The shimmering continued until a black-cloaked figure appeared beside her, knelt down and began lapping at the blood.

 _Vampires._

When Kyle hired Sanguini as his attorney, the two had a long discussion about vampires in England. Most vampires followed a surprisingly comprehensive set of laws governing their interaction with both the Muggle and Magical world. Despite popular perceptions, vampires were not made, but were a separate magical species similar to goblins and centaurs.

But there were, in every ministry, covens of vampires that rejected all laws and regulations and lived as they thought they were meant to live. And it was obvious that Voldemort had decided to ally himself with these creatures.

A scream marked where another auror fell. Kyle forced himself to his feet, pulled his lucky Byar blaster pistol from his jacket and fired at the creature eating Murchison. From his readings, sunlight, stakes and beheadings could kill vampires.

Evidently compressed particles of tibanna gas accelerated to near light speed could also kill them. The vampire's head simply popped. From all around the burning remnants of the manor, Kyle heard angry howls. They came moving faster than humanely possible, visible as smudged shimmers against the flame. Kyle closed his eyes and sank deeply into the Force rather than risking letting the poor visibility mislead him. His blue lightsaber buzzed alive, and the hum of it added a mechanical counterpoint to the demonic howls of the vampires.

Surrendered as he was to the Force, Kyle allowed his body to move as the Force directed it. His arms swirled up and about, slashing at one monster with his blade while firing his pistol at a second. Distantly, he heard shouts and felt the strange distortion in the Force that was the local use of magic, but otherwise the whole of his attention was on the fight at hand.

The vampires were swarming him, having recognized him as the greater threat. He lived up to that recognition, killing six in seconds. Still they came, moving faster than even a Jedi could have moved. Kyle lost his pistol to a vampire who took his shot in its chest and kept coming anyway, seemingly to give its life to disarm him.

Kyle let the weapon go and then unleashed a maelstrom of Force-lightning that caused the vampire to shrivel and burn. Seconds later the charge in the pistol exploded under the barrage as well, giving ample reason why Kyle was one of the few to still carry the old weapon.

His saber moved faster as he fended off the attacks, but though he killed many, he knew that there were simply too many. His thoughts moved to Harry, even as he fought. One of the worst things any padawan could ever feel was the death of a master—especially when the padawan bond ran as deep as what Kyle shared with Harry.

A shadow broke through his guard. Desperately, Kyle allowed himself to roll backward while slashing with his blade. He rolled backward to his feet again, but the vampires pressed even closer. With an acceptance he never thought he would feel, Kyle realized he was going to die.

But he would not ever subject Harry to having to feel it. _I'm sorry, Harry._ With a steely will, Kyle severed his mental padawan link to Harry. The act distracted him only for a second, but that one second was enough. Hissing with dark glee, a vampire slid through his defenses with a slashing, clawed hand, and then all Kyle saw was darkness.

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

Harry was aware of voices speaking at him, but he could not distinguish the words. He felt hands guiding him somewhere, but he couldn't understand why, or who they belonged to. All he knew was that the bond around which is life had been built since he was a child was cut away and metaphorically bleeding and raw.

His padawan bond was cut; Kyle was dead.

Something caught his foot; gentle hands caught him before he could fall. More voices spoke, but his mind was throbbing in such pain he could not distinguish who was speaking.

His mentor and teacher was gone; Kyle was dead.

Somewhere, he heard a girl crying. More voices were talking, some rapidly, many over each other: an explosion; Saint Mungos; bodies everywhere. The Ministry was in chaos, Cornelius Fudge fled the country. And what was wrong with Potter?

The only father he had ever known was now absent; Kyle was dead. His soul was bleeding, because he felt his father in all but name die.

A sharp slap brought Harry's mind from the brink of collapse. Searing attention focused in on the face opposite him—a large, crooked nose, lank black hair that gleamed under the torchlight that somehow still illuminated the room as well as any electrical lighting; a perpetual sneer.

Harry did not even think; his thrust into the man's mind was both instinctive and defensive. The mind was powerful and shielded, but his guard was down. And in that instant, Harry knew without any question why his master was dead.

Snape.

He could feel Snape's rage at Kyle's casual dismissal of him as a person, and the humiliation of being kicked in the head. So the potions master let Voldemort know the attack was coming.

The Force surged as a rage within Harry overpowered all sense of right or wrong. With a guttural scream, Harry struck at the potions professor with all the power of the Force, not caring even for a second that the Dark Side tinted the blow.

Snape's scream of pain brought all other noise in the room to an abrupt halt. Dozens of people watched as the potion's professor flew bodily across the Hospital Wing and slammed into the far wall with bone-crushing force. Harry, though, was not content with that. He flew after, submersing himself in his rage, and lashed out with a power familiar to him through Kyle's mastery of it. Blue lightning exploded from his fingers, burning him even as it burned into Snape. It wasn't enough to kill the traitor; Harry wanted him to hurt as much as Harry hurt when Kyle died.

His punishment was interrupted by a rush of stunning energy. Harry spun away from it and ignited his lightsaber, ready to kill anyone in his way. He was not surprised to see Dumbledore rushing forward, wand in hand.

"Did you make him do it?" Harry screamed at the headmaster, far beyond any control. "Did you tell him to give away the attack plan to Voldemort? Was it you?"

The question brought Dumbledore to an abrupt halt. "What did you say?"

"Snape killed them!" the young padawan screamed. "He let Voldemort know the attack was coming! My master is dead because of him! Amelia Bones is dead because of him! And he's your slave!"

"Mr. Potter!" McGonagall sounded aghast, but Harry didn't care.

"You think you're problems are so important?" Harry continued. The words came pouring out before he could even hear what he was saying. "This is an ignorant, primitive backwater of a nation on a stupid, primitive backwater world! As soon as I get my holocom I'm going to call the Empress Mother! You want to know what power is? How about a star destroyer in orbit! They'll vaporize the whole blasted planet! They'll reduce the crust to boiling lava and your seas to vapor! That'll take care of your dark lord, won't it?"

What happened next defied even Harry's understanding. It felt as if a foot slammed into the side of his head, but there was nothing there at all. He stumbled, still clutching his lightsaber, but his eyes lost focus on the stunned faces of those around him.

"Kyle…" he breathed.

 _I will not lose another student to the Dark Side._ It was Kyle's voice, but it rang inside his mind like a bell, so loud it crushed all other thought. A second later, the vision was gone and all that remained was Harry, with his lightsaber, facing half the castle staff and a dozen stunned, bloodied aurors.

Taking a deep breath, Harry turned off his saber and hid it in the folds of his robe. "I'm sorry," he said simply when he could speak at all. "My father in all but named died tonight. I felt him die." He pointed to the still unconscious Snape. "And it is because that man divulged the attack plan to his true master."

With that, Harry turned and walked quickly and stiffly from the hospital room. Once he was out into the hallway, the walk turned into a run. The run turned into a blinding sprint as he drew upon the Force to speed his way. Being late, the halls were deserted, so there were none to comment. He reached the suite he'd shared with Kyle and immediately began gathering his things. He would leave and reach Sanguini, and once he had his holocom he'd call for help and leave this stinking planet once and for….

"Ahhhh!" The sudden, unexpected pain in his stomach and chest brought him to his knees. It took only a moment to recognize it as the same pain that drew him to Earth in the first place—the Force-cursed goblet. He had to finish the Force-damned tournament! "No," he whispered with tears in his eyes. "No, damn it all, it's not fair!"

"Harry?" Hermione stood at the door, staring at him with a shimmering gaze.

He spun away from Hermione's eyes and desperately tried to regain some semblance of control. As soon as he accepted that he could not leave until the tournament was over, the pain stopped. But his mental controls were shredded almost beyond recognition. The gap in his mind from Kyle's death and his brief but horrifying touch with the Dark Side left him reeling and uncertain. He wanted desperately to talk to Kyle about it, like they used to do whenever he encountered something he didn't understand. So many hours, just talking and learning about himself and the world, and now it was…

A gentle hand touched his shoulder, and what little control he had shattered. Great, bowel-shaking sobs tore up from his diaphragm to his throat. Hermione sat down beside him, one arm draped over his shoulder, and said nothing.

The crying fit did not take long. It was almost impossible for a Jedi to revel in grief or self-pity for too long before a life of training and conditioning kicked in. As much as Harry loved Kyle, the ornery old Jedi would have been disgusted with his show of grief and weakness.

"I'm okay," Harry said aloud, though he found he couldn't make himself move away from the embrace.

"Alright." The response sounded subdued.

Harry was grateful for it. With the storm of grief subdued, he realized that he said far too much; revealed far too much in his childish anger. No wonder the Force gave him a Kyle-style kick in the head. "Did I…did I really threaten to burn the earth from orbit?"

"It sounded like it," Hermione said in an equally subdued tone. "I don't think any of the purebloods understood. But it sure sounded like you could call in a space ship to kill everyone."

"Kyle would have kicked me in the head for that," Harry said softly. "That's not how a Jedi is supposed to act. And even if he did get Kyle killed, what I did to Snape was revenge, not justice. It was…wrong."

"I don't know, I'd probably have done something worse," Hermione said carefully. "The aurors arrested him and took him into the Ministry, by the way."

After a long, pregnant minute Hermione said, "Harry, could you really have called a spaceship to come and blow up the Earth?"

His cheeks felt suddenly hot, as did the arm still around his shoulders. "I doubt she would actually blow the planet up, but they might've burned London if they thought I was in danger. I'm kind of an adopted cousin to the woman who rules a third of the galaxy."

"Ossus isn't in Canada, is it?"

Harry couldn't help his wry smile. "No."

The arm dropped away, and Harry felt a surge of sadness from its loss completely apart from the turmoil he was still feeling otherwise. But instead of leaving, Hermione stepped around him and sat down again, facing him from just a foot away. Her eyes were red, as if she'd been crying too. "Will you tell me?"

"You know, in some ways you remind me of my first friend," Harry said after a long moment to breathe. "Her name was Anaski. I thought she was very beautiful, but our first meeting went wrong. Kyle had us spar, and I didn't know that the tails on her head contained some of her cerebral matter. I stuck one up her nose."

"Cerebral matter?"

Harry told her. It felt natural and right to tell this girl, whom he'd only known for a matter of weeks, the true story of his life. In a real sense, she was only the second person he'd every told everything to—Ansaki Taan was the first. He and Anikol were best friends, but they didn't just sit and talk like this.

And when at last he trailed off, he realized with a dull surprise that he _felt_ better. Moreover, Hermione was an amazing listener—she leaned forward, fully engaged in what he said in a way only Kyle seemed to be before.

"So what are you going to do now?" Hermione asked.

"I…I have to finish the tournament," Harry admitted, though it still frustrated him to do so. "The magic of it could kill me, no matter where I went, if I don't. We know Voldemort planned to use it to get to me, somehow."

"And then?"

"Then? I call Master Skywalker at the Academy. I'm a Jedi Padawan—I need to complete my training. After being out in the greater galaxy, the idea of being stuck here is just unimaginable."

It was a moment after he said it that he looked up and saw something in her face—a longing and sadness quickly bit back by concern for him. "It's not really a secret, you know," he added. "There are so many worlds, with so many humans already, that no one would care if you came. And it wouldn't have to be now, either. If you wanted to finish your own education, I could leave you the holocom unit."

Her hug surprised him; in fact it almost shocked him. And just as quickly she backed away, blushing furiously. "I…thank you for thinking of me, Harry. I'm so, so sorry about Kyle. If there is anything I can do…" She left it hanging, but when she glanced over Harry's shoulder he knew their conversation was at an end. He could feel Dumbledore standing behind him.

With a sigh, he rose gracefully to his feet before helping Hermione to hers, and turned to face the headmaster. "I'll just let myself out," Hermione said quickly before she quickly slipped out of the room.

Staring now at the headmaster, Harry could see exhaustion. He felt it himself, given how late it was, so it did not surprise him to see Dumbledore visibly tired himself. The old man's eyes looked more rheumy at the moment than sparkly as he surveyed the suite. "You have packed."

"For nothing," Harry said. "I can't leave."

"Oh, trust me, young man, I know," Dumbledore said. His voice sounded oddly similar to Kyle's—the low, gravelly tone of a man who had seen too much. "I gave serious thought to just cancelling the tournament, and the pain was quite unpleasant. It binds the judges and heads of the school just as much as it does the students. Headmaster Karkaroff was quite put out to discover that fact earlier this evening when he, too, attempted to flee."

The old wizard took a step inside, and with a flick of his wrist conjured a chair before sitting down with a low grunt. He met Harry's eyes only for the briefest second before looking down at his aged, spotted hands. "I trusted Severus because he swore to me, using a binding magical oath, to do whatever was necessary to protect you. He swore the oath out of guilt—for a terrible mistake he made as a young man that he could not fix. For him to have done what he did must have taken the most extraordinary lies and self-rationalizing conceivable."

"Where is he?"

"As Miss Granger no doubt told you, I have dismissed Severus from service and remanded him to Ministry Custody. I swear to you, Harry, that I have no knowledge he would ever do such a thing."

With this, the old wizard looked up at Harry and met his eyes squarely.

"So what now?"

"Now, however much we wish it otherwise, we must complete the tournament and divine, as much as possible, what Voldemort is now trying to accomplish. We have uncovered his main plot, but if nothing else is true, Voldemort rarely contents himself with a single plan. And when the tournament is over, and we have divined the truth of what has happened, I will do what I can to assist you in contacting whomever you need."

That surprised Harry, a great deal. "No trials to place me with one of your friends?"

"No, no trials."

Harry tilted his head, studying the wizard. "I know that when you look at me, you see a child. I suppose I am very young. But I am a Jedi. I have skills and abilities that would be useful, and I now have reason to see Voldemort put down totally apart from whatever our history may be. The Jedi do not seek vengeance, but we do require justice. If you want my help, you must help me. I'll need you to tell me the truth, and you must understand that with the Force I will know if you lie or withhold information. And you can start by telling me how my master died."

* * *

sp

I specifically address the events in this chapter in my review responses for Chap 16. They are slightly spoilerific, but there for anyone too deeply concerned by this chapter.


	18. Tasks and Opportunities

A/N: Chap 17 review responses are in my forums like normal.

* * *

 **Chapter Eighteen: Tasks and Opportunities**

\- Death once had a near Kyle Katarn experience. Death was changed forever.

Harry woke from a dream of shadows chasing him. His scar throbbed terribly and his stomach roiled as if he were about to be sick. He sat up in the room he once shared with his master, and the instinctual reach for Kyle's presence once again turned up nothing.

Tired, dark-ringed eyes scoured the room until he arrived at newspapers for the last two days. A surge of bitter resentment overcame the dull ache of grief. Everything that could have gone wrong had since his master died.

Rather than mourning the death of a hero, Amelia Bones was being painted as an incompetent, inexperienced fool with delusions of grandeur. Barty Crouch Jr was dead—kissed by a dementor on the orders of a Cornelius Fudge who evidently regrew his spine and returned to the United Kingdom upon hearing of Amelia's and Kyle's death, only bent badly into delusion. He publically announced that Dumbledore, Augusta Longbottom and Tiberius Ogden were conspiring to use the non-existent threat of Voldemort to try and take over the Ministry.

The idiotic minister was doing everything he could to sweep it all under the rug, and there was nothing Harry could do about it.

Worse yet, Susan Bones blamed Kyle, and indirectly Harry, for her aunt's death. "She wouldn't have been there if it weren't for Katarn!" the redhead snarled at Harry. She didn't slap Harry, for which he was grateful, but she and her Hufflepuff friends glared as if Harry were the one to kill her aunt personally.

But perhaps worst of all, Snape was released. No, not just released. Minister Fudge granted the man a full pardon, and then had the audacity to appoint him Undersecretary of Education. He returned to Hogwarts shortly before the winter holiday flanked by two Aurors. He was met at the door by Dumbledore himself, staring him down with narrow eyes.

"Severus," the headmaster said coolly.

"That's Mr. Undersecretary to you, Albus."

"And that's Headmaster to you," the old wizard responded. "What is it you want, Severus?"

Snape's dark eyes narrowed to mere slits. "I've come to place the Potter brat under arrest. As Undersecretary of Education, I have the authority to expel any student for just cause. Potter attacked and physically assaulted me without provocation. I shall see him expelled and in Azkaban."

Harry, who like the other students stood behind the headmaster, stepped forward without hesitation until he stood even with the headmaster.

Dumbledore did not acknowledge him. "You can certainly try, Severus. But I'm afraid you are proceeding on two mistaken assumptions. The first is that Harry is a student. He is not a student of Hogwarts, and therefore the British Ministry of Magic has no authority to take any action regarding his status as such. And second, you are assuming the Goblet of Fire will not immediately kill you and your colleagues for attempting to interfere with the tournament, as it nearly did me two days ago when I considered cancelling it entirely."

For the first time Snape's oily, confident smile faltered. "You're lying."

"Mr. Potter is right here, you're welcome to prove me wrong," Dumbledore said with a note of dark humor. "Especially given your recent activities. I can tell you from personal experience that the pain will begin in your stomach. It is rather akin to being stabbed with a hot knife." He sobered. "I may give my trust easily at times, Severus, but once that trust is broken it cannot be repaired. Lily would be ashamed of you, just as I am."

Snape's face when utterly blank, but so close to him Harry could feel a deep stab of anger and hatred from the man. "You can't protect him forever, Albus."

"My friend, I've failed to protect him in any capacity. And yet here he stands, whole and strong, if your own experience is any measure." For the first time Dumbledore placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, but the young Jedi did not flinch as he continued to stare flatly at the man who got his master killed.

"Very well," Snape said at last, conceding the battle. "In that case, I shall be returning to my old quarters and conducting a review of the teaching and curriculum of the school as Undersecretary of Education. Any interference on the part of yourself or your staff would be…unwise."

With that last threat hanging in the air, Snape swept past Dumbledore with his two pet aurors in tow. "Well, after such an auspicious start to the day, I would think things can only get better," the headmaster announced. He turned and acted surprised to find the entire student body watching. "I should think there are classes that need attendeding."

With that, the students scattered, until he and Harry were alone in the courtyard. "That was unfortunate," the old wizard muttered. "We don't have much time, Harry. Come, there is much to teach you."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean as I say. There is much to teach you. Come."

Harry followed the old wizard through the now mostly empty halls toward the spiral staircase that rotated them up toward his office like a magical escalator. Without Snape or Kyle, it felt odd to be in the office alone with the headmaster. Dumbledore moved about quickly, as well.

"We do not have enough time in a year for you to learn everything of value," he said. "Even taking into account your apparently accelerated learning curve. However, I do not need to teach you everything."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

The wizard paused and stared at Harry over the rim of his glasses. "I have failed you in many ways, Mr. Potter. I cannot expect you to trust me, any more than I can trust Severus. But the fact remains that while the tournament has you trapped here, you are in danger. And the only thing I can do to deal with that is to give you as many tools as possible with which to survive."

"But what about Voldemort?" Harry asked. "Can you afford to spend time teaching me? We need to find him now and destroy him."

"And that, my boy, will be a part of our lessons. It will not be an easy thing to destroy the man once named Tom Riddle, but it can be done with patience and determination. It begins with a diary found by a lonely first year student named Ginny Weasley…"

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

"You look like shite."

Kyle Katarn struggled to open his eyes, but was unable to do so. His first attempt at talking resulted in a harsh, painful cough. After, he had to swallow spit before he could get words out. "I'll take your word for it. What's wrong with my eyes?"

He felt a feminine hand take his—it was a strong hand, and yet smooth. "You've lost an eye, Kyle, I'm sorry. I was able to save the other, but you'll need to keep the poultice on it for a day."

Kyle accepted it and moved on. "Who else did we lose?"

"Officially, everyone," Amelia Bones said tiredly. "As far as the Ministry is concerned, we were all killed in the blast. Unofficially, we lost Murchison and Flannen. Proudfoot and the rest are all injured to various degrees. If we'd gone in like we'd planned, we would have all been killed. It's almost impossible to fight vampires in close quarters without advanced notice and lots of warding and garlic."

Kyle heard pain in her voice. "How bad are you hurt, Amelia?"

"Nothing old Moody would take note of."

"How bad?"

He heard the slightest hint of a bitter sigh. "My right leg, from the knee. I'm working off of pain potions right now. In a straight fight without preparations, vampires are very hard to take down. The fact you killed almost an even dozen is the only reason we survived."

Kyle did not move, but he couldn't help but agree. "Where are we?"

"A bolt hole I set up after the last war, when I took the office," she said. "An unplottable cottage in Falstone Forest, near the Scottish border. I have the others recuperating as best they can. Tonks was the only one who came out without any injuries. Strange, given how clumsy she is otherwise."

Kyle reached out his hands to test the width of the bed, and then pushed himself over despite the deep, body-wide aching he felt and the pain in his head. "Lay down, Amelia."

"There's too much…"

"Lay down. There's a time to fight, and a time to recuperate. My mind is hurting as much as my body from severing the padawan bond with Harry. I need to rest, and so do you. Lay down."

The head of the DMLE slowly laid down, and Kyle turned on his side and wrapped an arm around her stomach. "When we wake, we'll decide what to do," he promised. "For now, we all need sleep."

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

"… _to destroy the man once named Tom Riddle, but it can be done with patience and determination. It begins with a diary found by a lonely first year student named Ginny Weasley. This diary first possessed, and the utterly destroyed the soul of an innocent little girl to unleash a reborn version of Tom Riddle, as he was when he created the diary at the age of seventeen…"_

Kyle Katarn sat next to Amelia at a round table in the living room of their magically-built safe house a few days after the battle at Little Hangleton. Around the heavy wooden table, the survivors of their rout at Riddle Manor leaned forward, listening to the receiver that was dutifully recording and playing back everything that Harry's subdermal transmitter received.

As Dumbledore continued speaking, Kyle turned his one eye to a still pale Amelia. It was odd and disturbing on several levels to have such poor depth perception. Nor did he enjoy the look of shock and even fear on Amelia's face as she listened.

Kyle paused the play back. "Do you know what he's talking about?"

She nodded, grimly. Across from the table, the old hit wizard, Alastor Gumboil also nodded. "Soul jars," the old wizard said. "Ran into one as a curse-breaker in Mexico."

"Also known as a horcrux," Amelia confirmed. "It's an ancient, dark magic dating back thousands of years. You murder someone in a dark fashion, and use the murder to split your very soul. You place that split portion of your soul in a jar or some other magically attuned container, and you achieve a sick, twisted form of immortality."

"Like Sith alchemy," Kyle said, immediately making the connection. "So we need to find these horcruxes and destroy them before we can take out Voldemort."

Amelia nodded and looked around the table. "My friends, the world thinks we're dead. And for the remainder of this mission, we need to let them think it. Your accounts will still be there for you—goblins have their own ways of tracking deaths. We stay under the radar and work from the shadows. We can't let the war escalate to what it was before. If not for Potter, the Ministry would have fallen in 1981. Now, any ideas on where to start?"

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

Harry's head was spinning, even after his meditation exercises. Though he never enjoyed meditation, he'd never felt he needed it until after his first "lesson" with Dumbledore.

Growing up and seeing the respect and reverence Kyle generated in those who knew him, Harry always had the notion that Kyle was invincible. It wasn't until the attack on their home when he saw his master stumble that Harry realized on any level that Kyle Katarn was not invincible. But even then, he always believed that his master was the best warrior in the galaxy.

Now, though, he wasn't so sure. The things the headmaster showed him were beyond any stretch of possibility he'd ever encountered in the Force. The man's ability to transfigure things into weapons or even minions to attack left Harry numb, and the power he wielded went beyond anything Harry had ever even heard of. The idea of learning that much magic seemed impossible; nor did Dumbledore lead him to believe he would learn it all. But he would learn some.

The book the old man gave to him was not available in any bookstore or library—it was a handwritten tome compiled by Dumbledore himself during the height of his involvement in the Second World War. Nor was it all his work, but rather a compilation of spellcraft and techniques from all the witches and wizards who took part in the fight against Grindelwald. It held spells on how to fight vampires and werewolves, to beating back giants and dragons. The spells themselves were nothing like what was described in any of his texts. According to Dumbledore it was because the book was intended for those who had already mastered the curriculum of magic.

So Harry's first task, before he even got to the tome, was to somehow manage to learn seven years' worth of magic before the end of the tournament. Even for someone raised with Jedi learning techniques, it was a daunting task.

He considered asking Hermione for help, but like himself she was only a Fourth Year, even if she was nearly a year older with her birthday in September. He also considered the Hogwarts champion, Cedric, but knew the Sixth Year was busy preparing for his own tasks.

The staff were friendly enough, but technically speaking Harry was not their student, and like the others they were all exceptionally busy. He needed a magically proficient adult who actually had the time to help him catch-up to the point where he could actually take advantage of what Dumbledore offered.

Harry couldn't be sure if it was just serendipity or the Force, but regardless a knock came seconds before it opened to admit Sirius Black. The dark-haired wizard studied Harry somberly for a moment before offering a thing smile. "How are you doing?"

Harry stood to great his unexpected guest. "Well enough, I suppose. What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to talk to you, if you had the time." Sirius sounded apologetic. He glanced around the Spartan room until he located a rolling desk chair which he pulled out to sit on, facing Harry. Harry in turn sat on the edge of his bed. "I know this has been hard for you. All of us are reeling—Amelia Bones was one of our most stalwart supporters in the Ministry, and a damned fine auror. Without her, we're floundering a bit."

"That isn't what you wanted to talk about."

Sirius's shoulders sagged and he ran a hand over his closely-trimmed beard. "No, I suppose not. Harry, with Katarn gone...what do you want to do?"

The soulful look pulled at Harry's chest, but he felt no desire to waiver. "I have to finish this tournament," Harry said. "After that, I must return to the Jedi Praxeum to complete my training. Beyond that, the Force will guide me."

"You don't think maybe—just maybe—you could stay here? With me?"

The man was on the verge of tears, Harry realized with a start. "Sirius, did Dumbledore tell you what I did to Snape?"

"Yeah, the pillock deserved it."

"Maybe," Harry allowed, still unable to forgive the former professor. "The point is, Sirius, that when I did that, I drew on the Dark Side."

"What? You mean, you got angry with him?"

Harry sighed, struggling to explain it. "The power Jedi use is called the Force. It can guide us and give us fantastic abilities, but it also can amplify our emotions. When a Jedi loves, it is with every ounce of our soul. And when a Jedi hates, the Force magnifies that hate into something beyond a normal emotion, until it becomes a darkness that can overwhelm us. The history of the order is filled with otherwise good Jedi who fell into hate, and thus into darkness. They became Dark Lords of the Sith, and time after time brought nothing but destruction in their wake. I touched that darkness, Sirius. It was so easy; I could have killed him without a second thought."

"So why didn't you?"

"All of Kyle's teachings sort of…kicked me in the head. I realized what I'd done, and what I'd said, and realized it was my hate and anger controlling me." Harry sighed again. "Sirius, this stage of my training is the most dangerous. I've learned many of the skills, but I'm lacking in the mental controls and techniques Jedi require. I have to finish my training, for the sake of myself and all those I care about."

Sirius stared at him with an intense, dark gaze before finally he looked down. "I understand, Harry. Do you think maybe you could visit once in a while, though?"

Harry couldn't help his smile. "It's only week away. I could probably visit once in a while."

His godfather bobbed his head. "That's good. You know, none of this is right. It shouldn't even be me here, talking to you. It should be James, or Lily. I just…I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you when you needed me."

"Maybe you can be here for me now." Harry explained his quandary and how he was looking for someone to guide him quickly through all seven years of the Hogwarts curriculum.

Sirius sat up and listened attentively before saying, "You don't want me."

"I don't?"

"I was pants at school," Sirius admitted. "Did just enough to pass and nothing more. Lily would have been the best to do it, but since she can't, your best option is Remus. He was the most studious of us all, and even if he was never very strong magically, he knew more than all the rest of us except your mum."

"Do you think he would help me?"

"Harry, I can say for certain that he would be delighted to help you."

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

Remus Lupin looked like a man on the verge of collapse. His skin was not just pale, but an unhealthy, sallow color. Limp, thinning hair framed a long, sad face with dark eyes that stared at Harry with the same intensity that Sirius had.

"Harry Potter," he said in a soft, phlegmatic voice. "You look just like your father, but…"

"With his mother's eyes," Sirius continued. "Harry, this is Remus Lupin. Like myself, he was one of your father's best friends. He also served as a professor here last year. If anyone can get you through the Hogwarts curriculum, it would be him."

"Do you have time?" Harry asked, worrying about how he would compensate his parent's friend. Lupin, though, laughed without humor.

"I have nothing but time, Harry. Albus has said I can stay in the castle, so the room and board alone is sufficient. And since you're not a student, I see no reason why we can't go as fast as you need. So, to business. Where are you on your curriculum?"

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

Just days before the holiday break, Harry sat in the library studying the theory behind a series of sixth-year transfiguration spells. He felt both exhausted, and if he admitted it to himself, exhilarated by all he had learned. Once Lupin accepted the fact that Harry could absorb and store information faster than a typical student because of how he was raised, they began to fly through the Hogwarts curriculum.

But it all started with the theory—once Harry understood the hows and whys, the practical proceeded much faster. So here he was, studying some of the more esoteric volumes on theory. Around him, most of the rest of the students were winding down from end-of-term exams and waiting anxiously for the Hogwarts Express to take them all home.

For his part, he turned down Sirius's invitation to spend the holiday with him and instead stayed to continue his studies. He'd had two more lessons with Dumbledore, but rather than focus on practical magic they focused on Voldemort's history in the hopes of finding clues. So far, they were stalled with where Voldemort even learned about Horcruxes.

"Harry?"

He blinked himself out of his meandering thoughts to see Hermione sitting across from him at his table. She had ink stains on her fingers, and a little smudge of it by her nose where she obviously scratched an inch.

"How are you?" she asked, once she had his attention.

"I'm okay," he said. "Why?"

"Well, there's been a lot of speculation over why you haven't asked anyone yet."

He blinked again, and then frowned. "Asked what?"

Hermione stared at his blank expression with a touch of concern. "Harry, didn't anyone tell you about the Yule Ball? The one you and the other champions are required to attend?"

His stomach dropped. "Ball? After all that's happened?"

She offered a somber nod.

"I don't know anything about this," he admitted.

"Professor McGonagall told us. I know she's just finished up her sixth year tests, if you want to go talk to her."

"Can you show me where she is?"

When they found her, McGonagall clucked her tongue in dismay. "Master Katarn never once mentioned it to you?"

"He had other things on his mind," Harry said flatly.

"Yes, well, be that as it may, you are indeed expected not just to attend, but to have the opening dance with the other champions. Oh dear, you likely don't even have dress robes, do you?"

"There's a Gladrags in Hogsmeade, Professor," Hermione offered helpfully.

The professor eyed Hermione a moment before looking at Harry. "Mr. Potter, perhaps Miss Granger could assist you as I'm sure she's familiar with Hogsmeade. Since you're not a student, you may visit Hogsmeade anytime you wish. Ms. Granger, having finished her exams, may accompany you on my authority."

Harry didn't bother to hide his sigh of relief. "Thank you, Professor. That would be greatly appreciated."

" _Our_ pleasure, I'm sure," McGonagall said. As Harry had turned toward the door, he missed the witch's wink to Hermione.

As they walked away, Harry had another thought. "What about money? Kyle didn't give me that much."

"Mr. Potter, you have a trust vault your parents set aside for your education that you've not touched in four years," McGonagall said. "I daresay you have more than sufficient funds to pay for dress robes. I'll contact the headmaster to ensure you have your vault key before you go."

That very afternoon, using the Headmaster's floo, Harry and Hermione found themselves in the Three Broomsticks, the primary floo for entry into Hogsmeade. "Ordinarily we take carriages or sleighs," Hermione told Harry as the two stepped out into a cold, snowy winter's day. "But for just the two if us, I suppose that wouldn't make sense. It is quite cold."

Harry nodded—he and Kyle did not have time to do a lot of clothes shopping when they arrived—as a consequence he wore only his heavy Jedi robes and warming charms. Hermione took one of his cold hands in her mittens and simply held it there. "Come on, it's just down the block."

Down the block evidently meant the entire length of the village, but eventually they managed to trudge through the snow under dark, lowering skies to reach the shop. They were the only ones inside save the tailor—a tall, gaunt man with a sallow complexion and limp brown hair. His shoulders were narrow and hunched over a lightly curved spine.

"How may I help you?" the man asked in a shockingly high-pitched voice.

"Er, right, I need dress robes a ball," Harry said.

"When do you need them by?"

"He needs them in a week," Hermione said.

"Hmmm, doable, certainly," the man said. "And you, young miss?"

"Er, well, you see, no one's asked me so I…"

"She'll need one too," Harry blurted. "I mean, if you want to…"

"Oh." Her cheeks turned a rosy red. "Well, yes, that would be fine."

"If you will be accompanying each other, then it would be appropriate for the young miss to choose her dress first, and then the young gentleman to select his colors accordingly," the tailor said. He reached under the shelf that separated the entry room from the back of the shop and pulled out a tome that looked as thick as a toddler stood tall. It slammed onto the shelf with a resounding, solid _thud_.

It creaked like door in a haunted house when he opened it to reveal…

"Oh my," Hermione whispered.

Harry sighed. This was going to take a while.

* * *

A/N: So, there comes a point in every story where the author needs to make a decision. When I first wrote Chap 17, Kyle was dead. It would have been in perfect line with the SW mythos and I'm sure the story would have continued on in an expected fashion. But as I started writing this chapter, I realized that Kyle's story just wasn't done yet. I didn't want him dead. And so despite what I felt were the requirements of the story, I chose to let Kyle live. It might be jarring, and I'll be the first to admit this isn't my best chapter, but really, what's the point of writing fanfiction if you can't do what you want to do?


	19. Yuletide

A/N: As always, Chap 18 review responses are in my forums. Though I don't respond to every review, I do read and appreciate them. If I missed yours and you'd like a response, please post in the forums dedicated to that purpose.

* * *

 **Chapter Nineteen: Yuletide**

Fear of spiders is called arachnophobia, fear of tight spaces is called claustrophobia, and fear of Kyle Katarn is called common sense.

When Kyle woke three days before Christmas, it was because of Tonks. "Boss," she was whispering, over and over again, like a nattering child trying to wake her mummy for breakfast. "Boss."

"Tonks, I will kick you in the head if you don't shut up," Kyle muttered.

"What he said," Amelia echoed.

"But we got a hit on our records search!"

Kyle cracked one eye open and stared blearily at the excited younger witch. "Give us ten minutes, please."

"Right," Tonks said. "Er…never mind." She turned and left the room Kyle and Amelia had shared since they arrived at the safe house.

"I imagine we're the source of a lot of conversations right now," Amelia muttered as she too sat up.

"I don't know about you, but at my age I just don't care," Kyle said.

"Well, you wouldn't, cradle robber."

Kyle laughed before leaning over to kiss her neck. "No cradle could ever have held you."

Ten minutes later, the two made their way into the kitchen where the rest of their unit—mostly recovered by now—sat around a table eating breakfast. "Ah, the lovebirds are awake," Myra Pilliwick announced with a grin.

"Respect your elders, or I'll spank you," Kyle said.

"Is that a promise?" the other witch said.

"No," Amelia said. "So, what's this about a records hit?"

"From what Dumbledore said to Potter in our recordings, we know he was originally named Riddle," Alastor Gumboil explained. "That opened up a lot of doors for us, since we never knew his real identity. He was born in a Muggle orphanage on New Year's Eve in 1926. The orphanage has been destroyed, but we did find some records of his living there in the Muggle census records. He was a student at Hogwarts when the Chamber of Secrets was opened the first time—the only death was a Ravenclaw fourth year named Myrtle Bartleby."

"Moaning Myrtle," Tonks said.

"Who was on staff at the time?" Amelia asked.

"Dippet was still headmaster," Gumboil said. "Dumbledore taught Transfiguration. Binns was still alive at the time, teaching history. There were no Muggle Studies classes, instead old Ivor Bissoni taught alchemy. Candelaria Chantra taught charms. She was a looker, let me tell you. Even into her eighties that witch could charm the robes off you. Kettleburn was just starting then with Creatures, Slughorn taught potions and…"

"I remember Slughorn," Amelia said. "He was head of Slytherin House. A bit of a slime ball—I remember he kept trying to look down my dress during one of his Christmas parties."

"They are all either dead or in retirement," Gumboil said. "And I wish to state now for the record that we are all aware of the irony behind the fact the most feared Dark Lord in history was raised in a Muggle orphanage."

"Noted. We start with Slughorn," Amelia said resolutely. "The man knew everybody. If anyone can give us hints about Riddle, it'll be him. Any idea where he is?"

"I have a pretty good idea," Robards said. "My sister was in his Slugclub. She works for the _Prophet_ and still gets invitations to his Christmas parties."

"So we make an unannounced visit," Amelia said with a grim smile.

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

Harry stood nervously near a painting of a frighteningly large woman draped in a gaudy Roman-era dress with a Dionysian crown of grape vines intermixed with laurel branches. She glared right back at him, as if daring him to get any closer.

Occasionally the seven-foot tall portrait would swing open to release small pockets of other students in extravagant dresses that often fit poorly on the young, still-growing witches and wizards. The older students wore their robes and dresses more comfortably, but the fourth and fifth years looked awkward.

Which is exactly how Harry felt in all the frippery. The most formal thing he'd ever worn were his formal Jedi robes, and then only to the banquet on Bastion to celebrate his and Anikol's saving of the young Emperor. The top of the robes looked suspiciously like a tuxedo, but instead of the tails of a traditional tuxedo jacket, it just kept going down into formal robes that hung to his heals. Under it he wore a matching black pinstripe vest and pleated, pinstriped slacks with black boots. The shirt underneath was white and starched, with gold buttons instead of the normal ones. Around his neck he wore a periwinkle-colored bow-tie that itched incessantly. He was grateful for the ever-present chill in the air, since otherwise he would have been uncomfortably warm.

The painting opened and for a brief moment, Harry forgot about his discomfort and nervousness and simply stared. Hermione looked as if she were wearing a cascade of periwinkle flowers from the waist down—a slim, elegant fall of ruffles that accentuated her waist without puffing out too much.

The top hugged her body tightly, showing just the merest hint of cleavage. But most remarkable was her hair—she'd done something to it that controlled the frizz. Instead, it was combed back into a tasteful knot at the back of her head, save for a loose few strands that hung like a beautiful frame for her face, until it cascaded back down the back of her neck in a shower of perfect curls.

"Oh, is there a stain?" she asked upon seeing his expression. "Is there something on my face? Lavender said I looked fine, but…"

"You look beautiful," Harry managed to get out before his voice caught.

"Even better than your alien friend?" she asked with a wry smile.

"Well, as good as you can without head tails," Harry said.

Inside, he cringed at the joke until Hermione laughed. "Are you nervous?"

"Jedi aren't nervous."

"What about apprentices?"

Harry shrugged. "Maybe."

"I'm terrified," Hermione admitted as she hooked her arm through his. "I was afraid no one was going to ask me to go."

"You couldn't have gone on your own?"

"Oh, no! That's just not done in wizarding society. Or at least that's what my roommate Faye said. And I believe her—there were girls crying in their dorms because nobody asked them. I don't think it dawned on anyone they can go on their own, and I'm not sure they would be allowed in, to be honest."

"Oh. Strange." Harry was immensely aware of the fact that, because of the way their arms were hooked together, his elbow hovered just centimeters from her breast. He didn't stare, but instead remembered Kyle's admonishing regarding respecting women. Instead, he went over the captured image of her in his mind.

"Thank you for asking me, Harry," she said softly as they approached the Great Hall.

He blinked and looked over at her again—she was actually as tall as he was. And looking into his face, he let the image in his mind fade into the background. She wasn't an object to be desired. She was a person, just like him, and he could feel nervousness, excitement and fear emanating from her in the Force as she looked back at him. Just as she was an utter mystery to him, he realized that on some level he must be to her as well.

"Thank you for saying yes," he managed to say. "And…well, for everything. You really helped me when I first arrived, and you didn't do it for any better reason than because you're a generous person. So, I guess it's me who should be thanking you."

Her answering smile lost its nervousness and changed somehow. He couldn't identify it if was in the curve of the corners of her mouth or the slanting of her brows, but somehow it changed. She didn't say anything, but she did lean her head against his arm, and Harry understood that he'd said something right.

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

Horace Slughorn laughed loudly at a joke his friend Sanguini made while trying not to stare at the buxom witch with the low-cut robes who the vampire had brought as his companion. She stood near the food tray, laughing gaily at something another guest said.

"And who is your companion, old friend?" the wizard asked.

"A wealthy client from the Americas," Sanguini said. "She is visiting to review her European holdings. Her name is Virginia Madsen."

"Oh, what a charming name," Slughorn said as his eyes widened. She happened to glance at him as he said it and gave the old potions professor a searing smile before she continued her conversation.

Slughorn's parties were famous throughout the United Kingdom. Cornelius was there, talking loudly to anyone who would listen how he realized Amelia Bones had become unstable as a result of her affair with that horrible Katarn man, who was obviously a tool of Dumbledore's to destabilize the Ministry.

The French ambassador was there, doing his best to pretend not to understand English while obviously laughing inside at the idiocy he saw around him. All in all, it was a successful party, but Horace just could not take his eyes off the lovely Virginia Madsen with her low-cut dress. Nor did she seem to mind his attention, smiling coyly at him every time they made eye-contact. Finally, after several glasses of brandy, he drew up the courage to approach her.

"My dear, how are you enjoying the party so far?"

"Oh, it's been a blast," she said in what had to be an American accent, though not one he'd heard before. "Sanguini said it was the social happening of the seasons. You make an excellent host, Professor. But what I'm really interested in is potions. Madame Deroy at Salem's said you were a brilliant potioneer."

"Did she, now?" Horace said. "And how is Maurine?"

"You mean Mable, right?" Virginia said with a coquettish smile.

Horace returned her smile. "Indeed, Mable Deroy. She retired ten years ago if I recall. I'm surprised you know her."

"She was my favorite professor at Salems," Virginia said with a sigh. "As a young girl, she taught me quite a bit. But then, I'm not a girl anymore."

"No, no you most definitely are not," Horace said. He was unable to stop a glance at her generous, creamy cleavage. "Perhaps, if you had the time, I could give you a tour of my laboratory after the party."

She sidled up next to him, brushing his arm with her breasts. "I think that would just be lovely, Professor."

"Oh, please, call me Horace."

Her grin sent a thrill up Horace's spine.

After eleven, guests began to leave, and for once Horace was not sorry to see them go. Normally, being alone after a party left the older professor depressed and lonely—a state he'd had many decades to grow accustomed to. But now, the lovely Virginia Madsen hung nearby, giving him a smoldering stare that excited him a way he hadn't experienced since the night Dominia Lestrange graduated and came back to thank him for his recommendation into a master program.

Sanguini was the last to go, and seemed hesitant to leave without his client. It was Virginia herself who solved that problem. "Go on, now, Sanguine," she said with that sultry smile and a mispronunciation of the vampire's name that made Horace quiver inside. "After all, what you don't know can't be used against you."

"Indeed," the vampire said with one elegant nod. "Then I wish you both an enjoyable evening."

"Oh, no doubt about it," the American witch said.

The floo gave a green flare as the vampire disappeared. Slughorn smiled at Virginia. "So, my dear, what shall we do now?"

"Well, I was thinking I could slip into something more comfortable."

Slughorn's heart thudded in his chest. "Of course, whatever you'd like."

Before his eyes, she suddenly changed. Her long blonde hair shortened, darkened to first a brown and then flared into a shocking, bright pink. Her breasts shrank too, though not overly so. But more important, the shape of her face changed. Her long, pointed and distinguishing features softened to a gentle oval shape that reminded Slughorn of one of the Black sisters he taught a few years before he retired.

"Remarkable," he said, more fascinated than afraid. "It couldn't have been polyjuice—I was watching you for more than an hour and you drank only the house punch. There might be a few other explanations, but I'd bet metamorph magic, and the only young woman I know of with that particular talent was Andromeda Black's daughter."

"It's Andromeda Tonks now," Tonks said with a grin. "And if you think that was impressive, what until you see what other tricks I have up my sleeve."

Slughorns fireplace flared green, since it was still open for the party, and eleven more people stepped out, one after the other in quick succession. Everyone wore red auror robes, save two. The man looked like an old piece of wrought iron—weathered, aged, and still tough. The woman was a striking witch who had entered middle age with a grace and beauty few could hope to match, though that grace was tempered by a clearly conjured artificial right leg.

"Amelia Bones," Slughorn gasped. "You're alive! How…how…wonderful!"

"I'm glad you think so, Horace," the witch said. "Because I need your help."

"Of course, of course!" Horace said.

"Tell us about Tom Riddle."

All trace of welcome or happiness evaporated. "Tom Riddle? Who's that?"

The older man moved forward, but Amelia said, "Kyle, please don't kick him. Horace might be a bit spineless and definitely a creep to witches, but I don't believe he's a bad person. We can work this out without violence."

Slughorn gulped loudly. "Violence?" He realized then that this was the very Kyle Katarn that Minister Fudge spoke so badly about. The man met Horace's eyes with a sense of veiled danger that made Horace quite nervous.

"Have a seat, Horace," Amelia said calmly.

Horace sat on his sofa, hands between his knees and wishing desperately for his wand. Moments later he found a tumbler of brandy in his hands, which he accepted gratefully. Around him, the red-robed aurors and blue-robed hit wizards began searching through his house.

"If you tell me what you're looking for…" he began weakly.

"We want to know where Riddle got the idea for horcruxes," Katarn said bluntly.

Horace paled and felt as if somehow had struck him in the stomach. "What…what…makes you think I know anything about that?"

"I didn't, until just now," Kyle said. He waved a hand, and even without a wand summoned a chair to sit in from across the room. A second came on the first, and Amelia joined him.

Kyle sat in his backward to rest his arms on the upholstered back.

Amelia sat daintily, one leg held stiffly out. "You see, Horace, we're facing a bit of a crises. We know for a fact that Voldemort is not dead. We also know for a fact that he is actively seeking a new body. And we know for a fact that he avoided true death through the use of horcuxes. What we don't know is how many he might have made, and what they might be."

"I can't help you," Horace said desperately. "You don't understand…"

Amelia leaned forward, and he could virtually feel the heat from her angry gaze. "What you don't understand, Horace Slughorn, is how it feels to watch your husband and daughter burning alive in your home. I will _not_ let that happen to anyone else. I want your cooperation, but I swear to Morgana that I will compel you if I must."

In the face of true, righteous fury, Slughorn's will collapsed. "Seven," he whispered. "He was obsessed with the number seven."

Amelia reared back as if struck. "So many?"

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

The head table during the dinner was chilly. Harry felt Snape staring at him, but he used every

ounce of control Kyle ever distilled into him to ignore the man. Instead, he and Hermione talked about his studies. He was on the equivalent of sixth year studies now with Remus's help, but Harry was surprised to find that Hermione was already familiar with a lot of the subjects he'd studied, having read far ahead herself.

She also told him about what Muggle school was like, since Harry missed much of that experience as well. He found himself listening not so much to her words, but to the tone of her voice as she spoke. Fond memories lifted the timbre, while less than fond memories lowered it. Her smile was naturally understated from a lifetime of trying to hide over-sized teeth which she had corrected the previous year. On anyone else, her smile might have been considered a smirk, but on her it was natural, warm and quite lovely.

Before he knew it, having hardly eaten, the meal was over, the tables were banished, and the champions were expected to dance. Shaking inside, Harry offered Hermione his arm, which she took with an adorable blush, and the two stepped out onto the dance floor.

"Hermione, I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For stepping on your toes."

She looked confused for a moment. "But you haven't."

"Not yet. But I will, promise."

With a put-upon sigh, she said, "Well, the things we girls have to put up with! As long as you're sorry, though, I'm sure it will be fine."

No longer able to hide his nervous shaking, Harry put his right hand on her waist just above the line of flower-like lace on her dress, and took her other hand in his left. Staring into her soft brown eyes, they began the formal opening dance of the evening.

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

"I…I…" The potions processor sobbed. "Tell me this, my man. Please. The boy—Lily's boy—when you took him, was he at least happy?"

Kyle frowned, and the expression made Slughorn actually sink further back into his sofa. "I wouldn't have had to take him if he were happy. He was abused and undernourished."

The old wizard gaped, as if kicked in the head again, before he said, "Oh Lily, I'm so sorry."

"You mean Lily Potter?" Amelia demanded.

Slughorn nodded. "She'd made me a gift, you know. I daresay, I was her favorite professor. She was certainly one of my favorite students—talented and smart, remarkably so for a Muggleborn. On the day she graduated, she made me a gift. A little bowl of water with a petal on it from a lily. The first time I saw it, the petal sank into the water and became a fish. It was beautiful magic, subtle as Lily always was. And one day, I walked down stairs, and the fish was simply gone. And I learned later that so was she, taken by the very student I helped. I retired after that. I just couldn't do it anymore."

One of the aurors interrupted. "We found something, boss," Aura Devereaux announced. The dark-skinned witch with violet eyes pulled out an old news-paper clipping from a manila folder.

"What is this?" Amelia asked.

Slughorn, though, answered. "My punishments," he said. "And all the clues I should have had before I helped Tom."

Frowning, Amelia stared at the clipping. " _Strange Events At Kent Sea Caves,"_ she read aloud. "This is dated 1934!"

"Yes, yes," Slughorn said. "Albus and I researched him a little before Abus fetched him to school. The signs were there, but Albus was so sure we could make the boy good. So sure. From what I understand, he tortured some of his fellow orphans at that cave, years back."

"Was there anyone he trusted above the others?" Kyle asked.

"Trust?" Slughorn laughed without humor. "Oh, that boy did not trust anyone. But there were those who were with him from the start. Antonin Dolohov, Evan Rosier, Mulciber. Only a handful, really."

"Rosier's dead and the other two are in Azkaban," Amelia noted. She paused when Devereaux handed her another newspaper clipping. "Who's Hepzibah Smith?"

Horace felt ice in his veins again. "Oh, well…" Katarn was looking at him with that thinly veiled threat of violence. "She…she was the last direct descendent of Helga Hufflepuff. Lovely lady, made the most delicious scones. After Mr. Smith died, well, she was quite…generous with her affections with lonely professors, you might say."

"She died in 1946," Amelia read from the article.

"Yes, right before Tom disappeared," Horace admitted. "He was working with Borgin and Burkes, and it's not a surprise that old Mr. Burke would send Tom to her. She was fabulously wealthy, and had a weak spot for a pretty face like Tom's."

"You think he killed her," Kyle said.

"The article said it was the elf," Amelia pointed out.

"Posh, no one believes that," Horace said. "The elves adored her because she was quite lonely, and treated them like friends. She treated everyone like a friend. But she couldn't help bragging, you see. She showed me her two prized possessions, and I have no doubt she showed Tom."

"Showed him what?" Kyle asked.

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

It was a tired but happy Harry who walked Hermione back to her dorm rooms. She hummed one of the songs from the dance quietly and wore a soft, contented smile on her face. They walked with their arms linked and moved much, much slower than necessary, as if both dreaded the end of the evening.

"I noticed Viktor Krum staring at you half the night," Harry said.

Hermione blinked herself out of her daze. "What was that? Krum? Are you sure?"

"Well, you were much more attractive than his companion. I think the girl had a mustache."

She giggled—something he rarely heard from her. "Poor girl, she really did, didn't she? Still, I don't like sports and have little interest in those who do. Ron Weasley used to drone on and on about Quidditch, and that was quite enough for me, thank you."

"I hear regret."

She sighed and let her eyes gaze into something only she could see. "I so wanted a friend when I arrived, and I thought he could be one. I was wrong."

"Do you have friends now?"

"Acquaintances, certainly," Hermione said. "Neville, I would consider a friend. Susan Bones and I are friends—although she's still upset. She and her aunt were very close."

Harry nodded and viciously bit down on the anger and pain that threatened the evening. "I can appreciate that."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Oh, Harry, I'm sorry I didn't think…"

"It's okay. For one evening, at least, I didn't even think about it. As much as I miss him, and will miss him, with you, tonight, it was okay. So, thank you."

She stared at him, lips slightly parted and a light blush on her cheeks, and before Harry even knew what he was doing their lips met. It was his first kiss, and he was surprised how very soft her lips were against his, and how he could not just smell, but taste the evening's punch.

They parted, and what had been a mild pink blue had blossomed into a rosy red on her cheeks. But she did not look upset, and her feelings were wildly happy and confused. And Harry understood because he was confused himself—he didn't know what to do next. And so, he decided on a tactical retreat.

"I had a wonderful time with you, Hermione. Thank you for coming."

"Thank you for inviting me, Harry," she said breathlessly. "I had a wonderful time too."

"Good night."

The smile returned. "Good night."

With one last happy smile over her shoulder, Hermione walked to the Fat Lady and disappeared. Harry himself turned to go when he noticed one of the castle ghosts staring intently at him. He stumbled as he stared, because he recognized her. Not from books or from anything recent, but he knew for sure he had seen her face. "Who are you?"

The ghost blinked, as if alive, and floated further into the halls. She must have been beautiful in life, because there was about her an ethereal, almost angelic quality. "I am nobody," she said in a hollow voice that sounded like wind through the trees. "I am lost."

With that, she sank through a wall, leaving Harry to wonder where he had seen her before. Before he could ponder the thought, however, the Force swelled with a sudden sense of danger. Harry, as accomplished as he was as a padawan, was still not fast enough to avoid the knife that slashed across his back.

He spun around to defend himself, but already the black-clad figure was backing away from him with the bloodied knife in hand. With a sudden, inexplicable pop, the figure disappeared.

* * *

Thanks for reading.


	20. A Touch of Cold

A/N: Review responses are in my forums. If I didn't get to yours and just have to have an answer, feel free to post in those forums as well. It's what they're there for. That said, the attack on Harry was a mystery. Lots of folks were very quick to point out the obvious, which means the obvious is wrong. Like every mystery, you're not going to get all the answers at once. So, you'll just have to keep reading if you really want to know what happened. And if you don't care, well, then why are you reading in the first place?

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty: A Touch of Cold**

The hardest moment for a child is not when he learns Santa Claus isn't real,

it's when he learns that Kyle Katarn is.

"Harry, you should really tell someone about the attack," Remus said when he showed up the day after Christmas for Harry's lessons.

"I did," Harry said glumly. "I was told that, and I quote, 'No one can simply disappear from Hogwarts.' Professor Dumbledore insisted it had to be a student prank."

"You don't believe him, I take it?"

"I couldn't sense the attacker. I can sense every student in the castle, which means whoever did it was able to hide themselves with magic. I just don't know of any students who could do that. I was able to go into a healing trance, so it's mostly healed anyway. It wasn't a deep cut."

"So what do you want to do?"

The question surprised Harry. Normally, it was he asking that of his master. Having the question posed to him felt odd. "Learn more, I suppose."

The two spoke in one of the many empty classrooms that filled the castle. Originally built to house three thousand students and staff, the paltry population of under a thousand left large portions of the castle empty. There weren't even any portraits in the room they selected.

"Well, onto other topics, Sirius wanted to know how the Ball went," the werewolf said.

Harry pulled his outer Jedi robe off. It was Kyle's idea that he wear his Jedi robes as a "school" uniform. "It went well," Harry said. "I enjoyed talking to Hermione, and she was a surprisingly good dancer."

"Ahh, Miss Granger, I remember her from last year," Lupin said. "A remarkably intelligent student. She turned out to be an ugly duckling, it seems."

That caught Harry by surprise, and even angered him a little. "What?"

Rather than be alarmed by Harry's disturbed state, Lupin laughed. "It's a fairy tale, Harry. The ugly duckling never fit in with his duck family, because when he grew up he turned out to be a swan. Ms. Granger was similar—she was a bit frazzled as a student early on, but she has grown into a truly lovely young woman."

Appeased, Harry could only nod and try not to let thoughts of that smirking smile of hers distract him too badly. "So, where are we?"

"I think we should review the 6th year curriculum before we move into the final NEWT subjects. I'd also like you to consider taking your OWLs this year, and maybe even your NEWTs. Having those tests on record will give you a certain legitimacy in the wizarding world. Now, explain to me the Principle of _Artificianimate Quasi-Dominance_ in conjunction with conjuration and transfiguration."

Harry did so, and fielded many other questions before they moved into the practical exercises. In the course of the afternoon they reviewed an entire year's worth of charms and transfiguration. They paused for lunch and made their way down to the Great Hall for food.

Many of the students who returned for the Yule Ball elected to stay for the remainder of the holiday, so the Great Hall was far more crowded than would otherwise be the case. He noticed how many students greeted Lupin warmly, while others looked at him with thinly veiled fear for his condition as a werewolf.

They found a corner at the Gryffindor table and began to eat from the abundant food there. "Remus, how much do you know about the Hogwarts ghosts?"

"Oh, as much as anyone, I'd guess," Lupin said humbly.

"There is a ghost of a woman—tall, dark hair, very beautiful…"

"The Grey Lady," Lupin said immediately. Then he chuckled over his mug of pumpkin juice. "James and Sirius got it in their heads that they could woo her into telling them where the lost diadem of Ravenclaw was. Sirius was convinced he wouldn't be able to pass his NEWTs without it. I'm not sad to report their attempt failed miserably, but it was very funny. Your mum and her friends dressed Alice Mackenzie—Neville's mum—as the Gray Lady and used a mix of charms to convince Sirius she was the ghost and lured him into the Great Hall, where they vanished all his clothes in the middle of dinner in the Great Hall."

Harry couldn't help but laugh. "Why?"

"Sirius was a bit of a dog to women," Remus admitted. "I assure you, he deserved it. He'd tell you himself. He's not a bad person, but he does have his weak points."

Harry's mind was already racing with the news. The Gray Lady, the lost Diadem of Ravenclaw … and suddenly he remembered. On Ossus, during his first trial, he'd had a vision of a tall, beautiful woman with long dark hair cloaked in a nimbus of silver, kneeling in a primeval forest with a beautifully wrought silver crown in one hand, while the other clutched a knife protruding from her stomach. _Mother, forgive me_ , she whispered.

"She was stabbed," Harry whispered aloud.

"That's right—killed by the Bloody Baron," Remus said. "He then went on to kill himself in remorse for his actions."

"Where would I find her?" Harry asked.

"Well, she's the Ravenclaw ghost, so either in the Ravenclaw dorms, or the library. Although ghosts can really go anywhere they want in the castle."

"Okay, I have to go," Harry said. "I'll meet you back in the classroom in an hour, okay?"

"What…?" He didn't wait to hear the rest of older man's question as he left the Great Hall at a run. Unfortunately, he could not sense ghosts in the Force, but he was very fast, if nothing else. He went to the library first, and couldn't help but smile in relief when he saw the beautiful ghost sitting in an elevated alcove surrounded by exquisite stained glass windows of wizards fighting dragons.

"Um, excuse me?"

The ghost looked up at him, and though he could not feel her presence in the Force Harry could see the pain of her lost life etched in her face. "Hello," Harry continued, feeling completely out of his comfort zone. "I was wondering, may I speak with you?"

Her dark stare felt hollow, and not just because he could see through her. "You are the boy the others speak of."

"Yes." He climbed into the alcove and sat down in a plush chair opposite her. "My name is Harry Potter. And I need your help in understanding something."

"You seek my mother's diadem, just like all the others," the ghost said. She scowled and began to rise.

"No, I just need to understand a vision I had."

The ghost paused and looked back at him with one arched brow. "A vision?"

"Yes. When…when Jedi like me reach a certain point in our training, we undergo a trial of the spirit. It's a trek into a hot desert, unlike anything you can imagine, with only a little food or water. Mine lasted nearly a month, and during that time…magic showed me things."

"Like what?"

"It showed me a troll hitting a student in a girl's bathroom. It showed me a monster with a handsome face stealing the soul of a little girl with red hair. And it showed me a beautiful woman in silver, sitting in an ancient forest. She held a silver crown in one hand, and clutched at the knife in her stomach with the other. In the vision, she looked like you, but I don't understand why magic would show me something like that when I was so far away from here."

Slow, the Grey Lady sank back down into the seat opposite him, her eyes distant. "He moaned and cried when he realized what he'd done," the ghost whispered. "As if it were he who had been stabbed. Though I knew it would be my death, I ripped the blade from my flesh and flung it to him. I told him he was a murderer, and deserved no less. And he fell on his own knife. He actually died before I did."

"You were asking for your mother to forgive you," Harry said.

The ghost turned sharply toward him before relaxing. "A true vision you had then. I asked forgiveness for my crime, even though I knew none would come. I stole the diadem. I sought to make myself cleverer, more important than my mother. I ran away with it. My mother, they say, never admitted that the diadem was gone, but pretended that she had it still. She concealed her loss, my dreadful betrayal, even from the other founders of Hogwarts."

"And so the diadem was lost with you in that forest."

"Hidden, not lost. And it was found, in time."

Harry's mind was racing, not over the vision, but over his recent lessons with Dumbledore and the testimony of the now decease Barty Crouch Jr. "Voldemort found it, didn't he? Someplace in Albania."

"In my time it was known as _Kutmichevitsa_ ," the ghost said. She seemed lost in her memories. "The Bulgars wrested it from Constantinople. I was travelling to the city of Dyrrachium to seek refuge with my father's family there when the Baron caught me. I hid my mother's diadem in a tree outside the city. Today, men call the town Durres, in Albania."

"But why would he want your mum's diadem?"

"He told me it was to make him as wise as me," the ghost said softly. "So pretty. All the professors sang his praises, and he sang mine. He made me feel…alive again. And so I told him where to find it." Suddenly her sadness flared into anger. "And does he use it as mother intended? No! He defiled it! He defiled my mother's most prized possession with Dark magic, and it was my fault. Always, my fault!"

With that, the ghost shot skyward until she disappeared through the high, arched ceiling. Harry leaned back in his seat, desperately trying to figure out exactly what he just learned. In the midst of his mental turmoil, he felt a sudden, unexpected flare first of heat, and then of comfort.

Somehow, his padawan bond had reformed. He almost jumped out of his seat and screamed for joy, until he felt a sense of caution through the link. _None can know_ , came the whisper of Kyle's mind. _We can hear you due to a subdermal transceiver. The diadem must be a horcrux. We are hunting them in secret, but we need your help. Quiz Dumbledore about where and what they could be, but in the meantime, find that diadem._

Speaking through a Force bond was not easy. Harry had to still himself and concentrated on the words before projecting them. _How can I?_

 _We've been tracing His steps and patterns. He's an egotist who considers himself an heir to Slytherin. And where else would the heir of Slytherin keep a piece of his soul? The Force tells me that diadem is in the castle. It's your job to find out where._

Harry nodded and then thought: _You cut our bond, Master. Why?_

 _Harry, I thought I was about to die. I never wanted you to feel that. I did not come through unscathed, either. But I also needed everyone to believe we were dead so we could operate more efficiently. I am sorry for your anguish, Padawan. More than you can ever know. But I am not sorry for my actions._

The answer was so typically Kyle Harry could help but smile. _I understand, Kyle. I'm just glad you're still alive._

 _For now, Harry. This battle is just starting. But if we are lucky and the Force is with us, we will finish the battle before it becomes a war. Find that Diadem._

He felt Kyle's presence fade as the contact ended, but the bond they had shared since Harry was a child remained, filling him with a warm sense of hope.

"Harry?"

Harry blinked and realized with surprise that he'd been crying in joy. He wiped his eyes and saw Hermione standing with three large books pressed against her chest, concern written clearly over her face. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Harry said. "I'm just…thinking of Kyle. But I'm okay, now. Better than okay. It's going to be alright, Hermione, I just know it."

Impulsively, she reached out to take his hand, and it felt warm in his. "I'm glad, Harry. So does that mean you've figured out the clue to the Second Task?"

"No, I…wait, what?"

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

"Kyle?"

Kyle Katarn blinked, thrown off balance by the fact that only one eye closed, and cleared his throat. Amelia was looking at him in understated concern—a concern carefully crouched in her professional reserve.

Around them in the sitting room of the safe house, the rest of the team was looking on with various expressions of interest. While the transceiver on Harry could not capture the sound of a ghost's voice (other than an inaudible whisper that sent chills down their spines), they heard Harry's side of the conversation clearly. And based on that conversation, they were able to add another horcrux to the list.

Horace Slughorn was still sleeping off an obliviation in his home, but the team itself had been hard at work going through Slughorn's copied files. "I'm fine," he said after clearing his throat. "So, where does that bring us?"

"Well, if what we heard is to be believed, Ravenclaw's diadem," Amelia said, ticking off one finger.

"Right," Kyle said. "And Slytherin's locket."

"The diary Dumbledore told Potter about," Alastor Gumboil said.

"The Gaunt ring Horace said Tom wore during the last two years at Hogwarts," Aura Devereaux added.

"And Hufflepuff's cup," Robards said.

"So that's five items," Kyle said. "One's already been destroyed, and one is almost certainly at Hogwarts."

"That's an awfully big assumption," Amelia noted.

Kyle shrugged. "Harry's there, he might as well look. But the Force tells me that's where we'll find it. Something that dark will resonate with Dark Side energy that we'll be able to feel, I'm certain of it. So, we need to find the cup, locket and ring."

"But if there are seven items total, where are the other two?" Emmon Savage, another of the aurors, asked.

"Six," Amelia corrected. "Voldemort himself is the seventh. As for what the sixth is, think it'll be something he keeps close to himself. We'll know more as we go, but for now we should concentrate on what we know, and do what we can do."

"So where do we start?" Tonks asked.

Gumboil held up a news clipping. "The sea cave in Kent," he said. "Whichever one it might be."

"Then we go," Kyle said. "Tonight."

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

Harry stared at the golden egg in consternation. Hermione sat across from him with a Muggle-style notebook and ball point pen, making notes and brainstorming with him. Nearby, Remus Lupin was paging through a book. The rules said that the staff of Hogwarts could not assist Harry with the tournament, but nothing in the rules prevented him from seeking outside help.

"The translation charm didn't work," Hermione said as she scratched that off.

"The egg isn't magical," Remus noted from the book. "It just holds the magical recording."

"Are we sure it's a recording?" Harry asked.

"Not one hundred percent, but given all the champions had the same egg, it's a good bet," Hermione said. "Can you open it one more time?"

Nodding, Harry braced himself for the screeching, grating noise and opened it. He let it play for as long as his ears could stand it until finally he had to close it. Hermione looked just as shaken the tenth time listening to it as the first. "It sounds almost as if they made it sound as painful to human ears as they could."

"Maybe it wasn't meant for human ears," Harry said. "I mean, there are other magical creatures, right? Could one of them have made this sound?"

"That's not a bad thought, Harry," Lupin said. "Perhaps we should be studying magical creatures—that might even be the hint in and of its self."

Suddenly Hermione dropped her pen. "Star Trek!"

"Star what?" Harry asked, dumbfounded by the sudden shift.

"Star Trek IV!" Hermione continued excitedly. "Aliens send a probe to Earth to talk to whales!"

Harry blinked again. "Is this a movie? Because it sounds really stupid. Who would want to send a probe to talk to whales?"

"This coming from a boy whose first girlfriend had brains in her hair," Hermione said dryly.

"They were lekku, and she wasn't my…" Her smile caught him. "Right, whatever. So, what are you talking about?"

"Well, in the movie no one can figure out what the probe is saying, so the heroes put it through a computer as if they were listening to it under water! And that's how they learn its whale song."

"Mermish," Lupin said suddenly. "Miss Granger, you truly are the brightest witch of your age. Mermish, Harry! They could be speaking perfectly legible English, but their voices are designed for speaking under water to each other. Above the water, they sound like claws on a chalkboard."

Looking from one to the other, Harry said, "So I take the egg under water and listen to it?"

"Precisely!" Hermione and Lupin both declared.

"Okay, where? I've only seen showers here, are there baths?"

Hermione frowned, obviously not knowing herself. Lupin, however, merely grinned. "As it happens, the prefect bathrooms all have rather large baths—the size of small swimming pools, in fact. I'm sure if you were to ask, Professor McGonagall would allow you entry for tournament purposes."

Because classes were still out for the remaining few days of the holiday, it was easy enough to find McGonagall in her quarters near the Gryffindor tower. The first portion of her quarters in fact served as an office where she could receive students, and it was there she met them.

"You wish what, Mr. Potter?"

"I would like to request access to the prefects bath for no more than an hour or two, if even that long," Harry said.

"May I ask what for?"

"For the tournament, Professor," Harry said. "It is my belief that the clue to the second task can only be understood while underwater. I believe it was recorded either in Mermish, or in English spoken by a merman."

She pursed her lips and studied Harry for a long moment. "I must say, Mr. Potter, that I am very impressed with you."

"How so, professor?"

"Given your recent losses, you have purported yourself with a dignity and self-control very, very few people of any age have, much less a teenager."

It was a fight not to smile at the thought of what Kyle would say. "While I may not have Kyle any more, Professor, in a very real sense he is still with me. And for his memory as well as my own sake, I do not ever wish to shame him. My outburst in the hospital wing was bad enough, I do not wish to lose control like that again."

"Indeed." It was all she said, but the word was enough. She leaned forward and began searching through the drawers in her heavy wooden desk until she found a playing-card sized wooden sheaf. She touched her wand to it and handed it over. "This will grant you temporary access to the Prefects Bath on the fifth floor of the hospital tower. I recommend you go during the day, as it is most busy at night and in the mornings."

"Thank you, Professor."

Not intending to waste any time, Harry left her office and went straight to the bathroom in question. The sumptuously built bath was easily large enough to fit ten students comfortably, and with a blush Harry wondered just what type of bathing occurred here, since there did not appear to be a different boy's or girl's facility.

Still, he felt a need to rush and stripped out of his Jedi robes and moments later sank into the ever-warm water. He had to admit it felt wonderful, and for a brief moment he simply soaked in it. The moment passed; with a sigh he took the egg, saturated his body with oxygen with several quick, deep breaths, and then sank under water and opened the egg.

The difference in the sound astonished Harry. Where before he heard a painfully loud, high pitched screaming, now a beautiful, angelic chorus permeated the water.

 _Come seek us where our voices sound,_

 _We cannot sing above the ground,_

 _And while you're searching ponder this;_

 _We've taken what you'll sorely miss,_

 _An hour long you'll have to look,_

 _And to recover what we took,_

 _But past an hour, the prospect's black,_

 _Too late it's gone, it won't come back._

He rose above the water, memorizing the message, only to see a beautiful woman's face hovering inches from his above the water.

Jedi or not, Harry screamed in a particularly girlish fashion and pushed back so fast he slammed his head on the edge of the bath. The ghost rose slightly from the water, unaffected by it, and simply stared. It was the Gray Lady again, staring at him intently.

"He…hello?"

"You are well-formed for such a youth," she whispered. "When I was a student here, the keep was not yet finished. We lived in thatch huts while mother and the rest built the castle. I still remember the day when Godric and Salazar sacrificed Humfrey Kilbowy on the rocks to power the wards of the castle. He screamed and cried, but all of us, even me, were in the lottery. Godric held him down while Salazar cut his throat. I remember so well because Humfrey was keen on me. I've often wondered if he truly lost the lottery, or if Salazar's son William asked that he be killed."

It was difficult for Harry to understand what she was saying. Not intellectually—it was clear enough. What he had difficulty with was believing that the castle around him was built on human sacrifice. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

She hovered close to him. Because of how the sunlight shone through the stained glass windows, for a brief moment she almost looked alive. "If I still lived, would you kiss me like you did that girl at your ball?"

The question caught Harry unprepared. He gaped as she moved closer, her parted lips so close he could feel the cold emanating from her. The water no longer felt as warm. And yet, there was no questioning the fact that she was beautiful.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I think I'd be too terrified by having you in the bath with me to actually think about kissing you, as beautiful as you are."

He waited for her anger to explode, but it did not. Instead, surprisingly, she pulled back and smiled at him. "You are not like other boys. You still have honor."

"Er, thank you, I supposed."

She reached out a cold hand and pressed his cheek. "Humfrey had honor too, I think. He was sacrificed for the witches and wizards of England. I think you too will be sacrificed, Harry Potter, and it saddens me."

"Dumbledore?"

She neither nodded nor shook her head. Rather, she continued to touch his cheek with her cold. "What you seek is on the left-hand corridor of the seventh floor, opposite the tapestry of Barnabas and his dancing trolls. Walk past it three times and think intently of the Room of Hidden Things."

"Thank you," Harry said. He could feel frost forming from her touch.

"I would be saddened if you died," she said. "But given great solace if your soul were to linger. Think kindly of Helena Ravenclaw, Harry Potter. Think kindly of me."

With that, she floated up out of the water and disappeared through the ceiling.

* * *

A/N: The actress who played Helena Ravenclaw, Kelley McDonald, was the same to play Diane, Ewan McGregor's underaged love interest in Trainspotting. Ewan, of course, played Obi-Wan in the prequels. It seemed a fitting connection. Thanks for reading.

A/N the second-the circumstances and location of Helena's passing are my own invention, based loosely on what details the book provided. I've not read anything on Pottermore, and probably won't.


	21. The Caves of Kent

A/N: Chap 20 review responses are in my forums like normal. Also, if I know I'm going to miss a posting, I always try to put a note about it on my profile. Feel free to take a look if I don't post to see why.

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-One: The Caves of Kent**

When a zombie bites Kyle Katarn, Kyle does not become a zombie.

The zombie becomes Kyle Katarn.

"Something's in there," Kyle said as he and Amelia stared at the dark, dank cave. Around them, bitterly cold wind blew sheets of rain across the large rock the two stood on. Ahead, the white cliffs of Dover looked muted and gray under the gloom. It was mid-day, and yet felt as if night were about to fall.

"How can you tell?"

"I can sense the Dark Side," Kyle said as he pulled his heavy coat and hood up tighter. "Evil. The cave is saturated in it."

"Sounds like our place then," she said. "Hold on."

The head of the DMLE took Kyle's arm, and just like the two instances that led them to standing on the rocky outcropping, the world twisted around him and he found himself standing at the mouth of the cave itself, inches away from the splashing cold water of the English Channel. "Have I mentioned how much I hate that?" he said.

Amelia merely smiled. "Adversity is good for the soul."

"But it's hell on the stomach."

Amelia rolled her eyes before limping up the narrow, treacherous path into the ever-darkening cave. Kyle held onto her elbow to help her in her continuing adjustments with her newly fitted, magical prosthetic leg. With a flick of her wand, Amelia summoned a magical light that cast a fey silver gleam over everything. "Handy trick to have," Kyle noted.

"Magic has its uses."

They walked for another five minutes before the sense of Dark Side energy grew so intense it made Kyle's knees ache. "We're here," he said, pointing in an innocuous section of the wall.

Amelia did not question him—rather she began casting an entire fusillade of spells. The results made her nod grimly. "Sacrificial blood wards," she said. "And not the good kind. You must make a blood sacrifice to open them."

Kyle lifted one brow. "Really?" With one smooth motion, he lit his fuchsia lightsaber and plunged it into the rock, only for it to spark and short out.

"Really," Amelia noted dryly.

Kyle pulled the saber back. He activated the blade, which worked again. "Damn," he muttered. "Just like cortosis. That's the first time I've seen magic defeat a lightsaber."

"It's powerful magic, Kyle. Let me try something instead." Slipping her wand behind her ear, she removed a small penknife from within her robes and cut across the heal of her palm without even wincing. She watched the blood well-up until she wiped it along the wall.

With a grating sound of rock scraping on rock, the wall slid open to reveal a massive lake under the domed rock. Amelia cast another, stronger light that flew into the air over the lake and revealed a small island set in the center of it.

"Oh, that's not a trap at all," Kyle muttered darkly. "Beasties in the water, you think?"

Amelia walked to the water's edge and looked down, paling as she did so. "Oh Merlin," she whispered. "Kyle, there are inferi in the lake!"

"Which are?"

"Reanimated corpses," she said. "The most vile, despicable and dark magic imaginable. This is necromancy. Inferi swarm in impossible numbers and don't feel pain or fear, only hunger. I ran into them in Austria as an ICW enforcer a few years ago."

Kyle could sense the potential danger in the water. Nearby, he saw a small boat. "So, we get out into the island, do something that triggers the beasties in the water, and die."

"Looks like."

"Well, that's just not a good plan at all." He paced along the edge of the water, thinking furiously. "Is there any magic that would keep that water from freezing?"

"You mean aside from the heavy salt content and controlled temperature in the cavern? Not that I can tell."

"Fine," he said. He sat down cross-legged just inches from the still, black waters. He rested his hands on his knees and took long, deep breaths.

"What are you doing?"

"My own bit of magic," he said. He continued to breathe deeply until he felt himself centered in the Force. He reached out both hands and with the Force began to _pull_. He did not pull the water, though. Instead, he pulled at the heat within the water.

Beside him, Amelia sat down with a _humph_ of effort and let her artificial leg stretch out as, just inches above the underground lake, the air shimmered with the release of heat energy. She did not speak at all, but simply sat and watched. She could have converted some of the water to ice with magic, but what Kyle was doing was on a scale beyond any mere spell.

Gradually, at first, and then in large patches, ice began to appear across the surface of the lake. In minutes, it covered the entire lake, but Kyle did not stop. The air above the ice continued to shimmer until, almost twenty minutes after he began, Kyle released his pent of breath and sighed.

"That was hard," he admitted.

"How thick?"

"I got it to about four feet," he said. "That should be enough. Are you up for walking on ice?"

With a flick of her wand, she conjured a set of crampons on his boots before doing the same for her own shoe and the magically flexible wooden foot that replaced what she lost. With a shake of his head, Kyle stood and helped her back up. "Pretty nifty."

"I do try."

Together, the couple began walking across the ice. In the distance, they heard a sharp crack, but could see no sign of the ice breaking up. Still, it was a long, nerve-wracking walk to reach the small island. Amelia had to recast her light twice along the way.

What they found was a pedestal topped with what at first looked like an old fountain filled with a black fluid. Kyle started to reach inside but paused when he felt a surge of warning in the Force. "Poison, you think?"

Amelia cast her magic again. "It's definitely not water," she said quickly. "I can't identify what it is. But there's a cup at the base of the pedestal. What do you want to bet we have to drink it?"

"Not going to happen. Step behind me."

"Your laser sword again?"

He shrugged. "Nothing that fancy." He faced the pedestal, and then using the Force to strengthen his limbs, he kicked the whole contraption over. The fountain fell intact and began pouring black ichor out over the rock of the small island. But within its midst, they saw a locket.

"Bingo," Kyle said. He summoned it with the Force and slipped the locket into his pocket. "Alright, ready to go?"

"Kyle, look!"

He followed her finger and saw that where the ichor had run into the ice, it melted it faster than boiling water. And in the tiny hole the ichor already made, a shriveled finger was wigging.

"Well, to use the Earth vernacular, bugger," he muttered. "Can you run?"

"No, but I can make myself as light as a feather." Nor was she joking as she cast a feather-weight charm on herself.

"That makes saving the damsel in distress much easier," he admitted as she climbed onto his back. With his conjured crampons for grip, Kyle began running across the ice. The cracks they heard sounded closer and louder, and in much greater numbers.

"Some have broken through by the island," Amelia noted with a professional calm that Kyle could not help but admire.

He kept running, knowing that time was quickly running out. Danger hung heavily in the air, punctuated by the breaking, quickly melting ice. Nearby, he saw a desiccated arm somehow punch through the ice sheet.

They hit rock, and Kyle had to stop before the crampons tripped him. Slipping them off, he turned to see an army of hundreds of grotesque, withered bodies breaking through the ice. He let Amelia slip off his back and reached into his jacket to remove the last of his thermal detonators. Using the Force, he guided the weapon into the top-most dome of the cavern. "Get the door open," he said tersely.

"Done," she said behind him.

He set the charge, turned, and ran.

They just managed to close the cave wall when the explosion rocked the entire cliff-side around them. They moved as quickly as they could until they once again faced the grim, cold, overcast day. Then, Kyle turned, took Amelia's face in his hands, and kissed her. "You are one hell of a lady," he declared.

"And I'll thank you to remember that," she said archly.

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

Harry wasn't sure why, specifically, he asked Hermione Granger to come with him to the Room of Lost Things. Remus would have been a better choice if he needed back-up, but there was the risk he would tell Dumbledore, and right now neither Harry nor his master trusted the old wizard.

However, over the course of weeks and months that he had known Hermione Granger, he discovered that she, too, did not entirely trust the headmaster. She rarely voiced it explicitly, but it was more in what she didn't say. That is, until he cornered her on the subject.

"You know I was hurt very badly my first year," Hermione told him after classes one day. "A troll got in and broke my back. He never told my parents, or let me go to St. Mungos for treatment. He treated me very well, don't mistake me. The best healers came here, and my back hasn't bothered me since then. But he never told my parents, and no word of it ever got out. He should have at least notified my parents. Instead, he kept the whole thing a secret and told me not to say anything about it to anyone."

And so, despite the potential danger, Harry found himself pacing in front of a section of wall in the left corridor of the seventh floor of the castle opposite a tapestry depicting a ludicrous wizard trying to teach trolls ballet with a fifteen-year-old witch instead of an experienced, thirty-six year old wizard.

"I don't suppose the Grey Lady told you how to actually find the room," Hermione said, obviously trying to be helpful as he paced.

He stopped after his third lap of pacing and stepped back, surprised despite himself, when a door magically appeared from the wall. "She mentioned something about pacing," he said dryly.

Hermione playfully slapped his shoulder. "Shush, you."

Harry stepped forward to open the door. "Shall we?"

"Thank you, sir," Hermione said with a little courtesy before leading the way into the room. She stopped just inside, causing Harry to accidently bump into her. Immediately, he saw why she stopped.

"By the Force," he whispered.

There were piles of junk at haphazard intervals reaching forty feet high or higher in some cases, stretching as far back into the bowls of the room as they could see. By now, Harry simply accepted that there would be a room on the seventh floor of the castle that was larger than the whole castle itself.

Hermione stepped to the base of one of the massive piles. They saw furniture, books, clothes and other knickknacks of all descriptions in a pile so precarious it could only have been held together by magic.

"Oh, Harry, how are we ever going to find anything in here?" Hermione whispered in awe as if she were standing in St. Paul's Cathedral. She turned to look at him and frowned when she did. "Harry, are you alright?"

Harry knew well why she looked concerned. The moment he'd stepped into the room a pressure began to build in his skull behind his scar—a pressure that quickly began to burn like dry ice to the skin. "It's close," he gasped.

He'd never told Hermione what the diadem was, only that it was something the Grey Lady told him about. "Harry, what's happening?" she asked, truly concerned now as she came to his side.

"I'm not sure," he said. "But we need to hurry." He closed his eyes and opened himself not just to the Force, but to the pain. Doing so, he felt a pull on the scar itself and followed it instinctively. Though aware of the pull, Harry was equally aware of Hermione's hand on his arm as he led them deeper into the piles of lost objects.

"Harry, look!"

She pointed to a pedestal with a black velvet bust on top of it. On the bust they saw a simple golden diadem set with a larger sapphire in the center piece, and two large diamonds hanging underneath it, with small diamonds set along the delicate gold arms. Instinctively, she reached out for it, but Harry grabbed her arms.

"Don't!" he said.

"But…but…it's Ravenclaw's diadem!" she said, eyes alight. "Harry, that's the most precious magical artifact in the world. I _need_ to have it."

Her sudden fervor shocked him, even more so when she tried to twist away from him and dive for it. He grabbed her and pulled her close, but blinked in surprise when she slapped him. "Let me go! I have to have the diadem!"

He'd never seen her act this way, but when he considered the pain in his forehead and the sheer dark energy that surrounded the diadem, he began to understand. He grabbed her again, spun her into his arms, and then took a risk that he would never have taken otherwise.

He kissed her. Not an innocent peck on the cheeks, but a real, lingering kiss on the lips. At first her eyes bulged in surprise and she fought him, but he didn't let go until he could feel some of the fervor leave her. Finally, their lips parted.

"Harry, what…" she whispered, a finger rising to touch her own lips.

"The same dark magic that killed Ginny Weasley is in that diadem," he told her urgently, keeping both hands on her cheeks. "Do you understand, Hermione? If you put that diadem on, it will possess and kill you just like Ginny Weasley."

"But…why did you kiss me?"

Harry winced at a fresh wave of pain. "It seemed like a good idea at the time," he said. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay," Hermione said, her cheeks blushing a bright red. "It was rather nice. But…I don't understand. If the diadem is cursed, why are you after it?"

"To destroy it," Harry said.

Her eyes widened again. "Oh, Harry, you can't! It's…"

"A priceless artifact of the Hogwarts Founders," he finished. "I know. That's why Voldemort cursed it."

The name of the Dark Lord got Hermione's attention even better than Harry's impromptu snog, and he wasn't quite sure what to think of that fact. She turned and stared at the diadem with an expression of horror and outrage. "He didn't!"

"The Grey Lady wasn't thrilled with him either," Harry said. "But we have to destroy it."

"Why you, though?"

"Because it…" Harry paused and looked around. Slowly, he leaned forward until he was an inch away. "Kyle survived the attack. It was a trap, Hermione. Snape gave Voldemort the information, but there's a chance Dumbledore either let him, or told him to, to remove Kyle from the running. Voldemort left these…things around, and we cannot defeat him until we destroy them. Kyle's working on it outside of the castle in secret, but this is one I have to handle. We can't trust anyone else."

"But you trust me? Why?"

Harry started to spout off a quick, trite answer, but paused as he studied her. "Because you've always helped me, and anyone else who asked, without a thought to yourself. I think you are the only person on this whole world I trust as much as Kyle."

She stared at him, her blush fading and her lips parted. "You keep saying things like that," she said softly. "But Harry, I'm not any different from any other witch. There's nothing special about me."

"The fact that you came here without any hesitation proves otherwise," Harry said. With a deep breath to try and keep the pain in his scar at bay, he added: "But we're here now, and we need to destroy that thing. Please stand back. I'm not sure how easy this will be."

She didn't look happy, but obeyed as Harry ignited his lightsaber. He keyed the focusing crystal, and the blade extended by another six inches. Carefully, he stepped toward the diadem, when suddenly the air above it seemed to explode in a cloud of black smoke. From within the smoke, he saw Ossus.

Only, it was not like the Ossus he knew. The once barren world now teemed with life of such abundance it seemed a miracle had occurred. But rising from within it was the same Praxeum he had trained at. As he watched, an army of storm troopers and red-saber wielding Sith swarmed over the compound, while the air above sizzled with turbolaser bolts striking shields.

Harry watched in horror as the Jedi were slaughtered and the temple razed to the ground. _This is what your future holds, Harry Potter,_ the clouds seemed to say. _There is no hope. Only with the diadem can you ever hope to save those you love!_

Harry distantly felt his saber drop from his hands as he watched the death of the Jedi unfold. Younglings screamed as they fled toward shuttles, only to be viciously gunned down by storm troopers. Knights fought valiantly, often against a whole battalion of troopers and four of five Sith each, but there were simply too many of the enemy.

Their screams rang in Harry's ears. Their pain permeated the Force and his very soul. He could not do this—he could not permit the Jedi to die. He rushed forward to save his people, when suddenly Hermione was there, kissing him just like he kissed her.

The pain and anguish of the lost Jedi suddenly disappeared, doused by the heat of her lips on his. He blinked in surprise and saw her looking right into his eyes—they were of a height. "Harry," she said. "It's trying to trick you. Just like it tried to trick me."

With the heat from their kiss came sanity. "Thank you."

And suddenly the diadem attacked from a different direction. Harry's scar exploded in agony more intense than even what the Triwizard Cup did to him. He cried out and stumbled away, clutching the scar. "Harry!" Hermione cried. "Harry, what's wrong!"

"It's hurting my scar!" Harry screamed.

Hermione looked from Harry, writhing on the floor now in agony, to the diadem. She then looked down at where his saber fell. With a grim determination, she reached down and lifted the blade, surprised at how heavy it was. She flicked the switch just as she'd seen Harry do, and walked toward the diadem with the dark purple blade lit.

A foot away, the air was rent by a great roar and in the black cloud over the diadem a mountain troll rushed toward her with a raised club. Hermione screamed, not in fear, though, but in anger. With a wild, over-handed swing, she slashed the blade down on the diadem.

The massive burst of magical energy blew her back, as if she'd been struck by a giant hand. All around them, the massive piles of junk exploded out and away from the shattered diadem as if blown apart by the concussive shock-wave of a Muggle bomb. She had a brief sensation of flying through the air before arms caught her.

She and Harry tumbled together into a broken pile of debris, some of which spilled over her. It took both of them a few moments to catch their breath. When the initial shock wore off, Hermione realized she was laying on top of Harry. More troubling, though, was that a pair of very old, dirty boy's pants was laying on his face.

"Eww, I don't want to touch that," she declared.

With effort, Harry pulled the pants off. "They didn't smell any better than they looked," he muttered in disgust.

"Harry, your scar, it's bleeding."

He reached up and touched it, and then studied the blood on his fingers. "I don't understand what happened," he admitted. "It…it attacked me through my scar, but I don't understand how."

"Well, it doesn't matter now. It's thoroughly destroyed."

"Thanks to you," he said. "What was that you said, about not being special?"

"Well, special or not, it feels as if I have a chair poking my bum, so if you don't mind?"

With effort, they managed to extricate themselves from the pile of debris. Around them, the other piles had been blown away, leaving a clearing in the center of the impossibly huge room. And in the middle of that clearing was the broken diadem, and Harry's lightsaber. He summoned it to his hand and flicked the switch, but nothing happened.

"Oh no," he whispered.

"I…did I…?"

"It wasn't you, I think it was the magic," he said. "I'll have to look at it later. Right now, we need to get out of here. Are you okay?"

"A bit bruised, but I'm sure I'll be fine," Hermione said. "Do you think we should just leave it here?"

Harry frowned. "Good point." With the Force, he pulled the two pieces of the severed artifact to his hand. The metal felt cold and inert—the darkness within it was gone. He shoved them into his robe and took one more look around.

"Am I the only one who wishes I could just go through all of this? Just imagine the treasures buried in this room."

"And the books," Hermione said with wide eyes.

Grinning, he took her hand. "I'm glad you came, Hermione. I couldn't have done this without you."

"And I'll thank you for remembering that," she said with a mischievous smile.

* * *

sp

Thanks for reading.


	22. The Second Task

A/N: Review responses for chapter 21 ARE NOT posted in my forums. I've got a cold and just couldn't summon the energy, sorry.

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Two: The Second Task**

Kyle Katarn makes onions cry.

"Who the hell is RAB?" Kyle asked irritably once they were back in the safe house.

The kitchen table in the safe house had become a de facto conference table. The other surviving members of Amelia's initial team sat around it taking turns reading the note they found in the obviously fake locket.

"I can think of three possibilities off the top of my head," Alastor Gumboil, the oldest of them there, said in his low, slightly droning voice. "Ronaldus Antoninus Ballista, known to his colleagues as Tony; Richard Alceidas Bridgeworth, and Regulus Arcturus Black, known to his colleagues as Reggie."

"How do you do that?" Aura Devereaux, a hit witch, muttered as she stared at the man. "It's like your brain is a sponge."

"It _is_ a challenge being so much smarter than anyone else," Gumboil said with a wry smile. "But somehow I make due."

"Did you pick those three just because of their initials?" Amelia asked.

"Partially, but also because they're all dead," Gumboil said. "Ballista and Black were both suspected of being Death Eaters, while Bridgeworth was a half-blood reporter for the Prophet. I can't imagine anyone thwarting You-Know-Who and surviving long."

"Black," Kyle said, looking distinctly piratical in his eye-patch. "And relation to Sirius Black?"

"I'd say so," Gumboil said. "He was Sirius's younger brother. Sirius and his cousin Andromeda Black - "

"That's Tonks now, thank you," Tonks interrupted.

"- were the only members of the Black family who did not actively support Voldemort," Gumboil finished without missing a beat.

Amelia and Kyle shared a knowing glance. "Low hanging fruit," she said.

"I agree," Kyle answered back. He looked around to the rest of the room. "Sirius Black is a known quantity, so we interview him first. Tonks, any chance of impersonating your mother? We want to get in without revealing who we are first."

As they sat there, Tonk's whole appearance changed, maturing and expanding until she became an elegant woman with a heart-shaped face and long, luxurious brunette hair. "Of course," she said with an aristocratic drawl.

With Nymphadora Tonks on their side, it was a simple matter of repeating the same tactic they used on Horace Slughorn, with the added advantage that Sirius believed he already knew his guest. Tonks stepped out of the floo in the ancestral Black home as if she owned it and gave the unkempt Sirius a disapproving frown.

"You're not taking care of yourself," she noted.

"You're not my mum, 'Dromeda," he whined.

"Thank God for that." She stunned him, and before he even hit the floor opened the floo for the rest of the team to arrive. Kyle was the last one through and arrived just in time for them all to be attacked by an ancient, foul-mouthed elf that Amelia quickly stunned as well.

"Kreature," Tonks said as she morphed back into her normal appearance. "Mum's told me horror stories about that little guy."

Amelia walked to Sirius's side and _enervated_ him. He sat up, wide-eyed, with a gasp of alarm. Crab-walking backwards until he hit the far wall, he continued to stare in shock at the people around him until their appearances finally began to sink in. "Amelia?" he asked. "Katarn? But you…you're dead."

"Not yet, despite your headmaster's wishes," Kyle said.

"But…it was all a lie then?" Black said, growing more angry than bewildered. That is, until Amelia hefted her red robe to reveal the prosthetic leg.

"It was real enough," she snapped. "It cost me two of my people, my leg, and Kyle's eye. They knew we were coming and laid an ambush for us, but we survived it. Snape let them know we were coming, but I have strong reason to believe Dumbledore allowed him to."

"Bollocks!" Sirius said. "Dumbledore is a great man, he's…"

"The man who let you rot in prison until he needed a way to get Harry away from me," Kyle said. He knelt down in front of Sirius. "I accept that Dumbledore believes he's doing the right thing, but his motivation is not to protect Harry. It's to defeat Voldemort at any cost. To him, Harry is a one-shot weapon. And he fully expects Harry to die in the process and believes it's a tragic but acceptable price to pay for Voldemort's death."

"As if you're any better," Sirius snarled.

"I'm willing to die fighting Voldemort so Harry doesn't have to," Kyle said. "And I've proven it more than you have." He pulled the note they recovered from the locket and shoved it in Sirius's face. "Is that your brother's handwriting?"

Sirius blinked under the barrage of Kyle's words and the note shoved into his face. He frowned in concentration as he took the note and read it, mouthing the worlds silently. Then he read it again, his eyes misting.

With a grunt of effort, Kyle stood. "That's it, then."

"It can't be," Sirius muttered as he wiped an eye. "Horcrux? What is he talking about?"

"The reason Voldemort didn't die," Amelia said. She showed him the fake locket. "Have you seen anything like this since you've been here?"

Sirius stared from the locket to the note and back again. "Kreature!" he said.

The elf's compulsion to obey his master overrode the stunner. The withered old elf stirred. "Filthy mudbloods attacked Kreature," the elf muttered.

"Kreature, what do you know of this?" Sirius demanded, shoving the note into the elf's face just as Kyle did to him.

The elf stared at the paper before he began to viciously pull his ear. "Master said Kreature must never tell. Master said Kreature must destroy it, but Kreature failed! Bad Kreature!"

"Kreature, I am Amelia Bones, the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement." She held out the locket. "We are trying to finish what your master started. We found this. Do you have the original?"

Still tugging viciously at his long ear, Kreature looked to Sirius.

"Answer her, Kreature," Sirius ordered. "Tell us if it's true, if Reggie turned from the Dark Lord."

"True," Kreature said, wincing at the pain he caused himself. "Master was good master. Asked Kreature to help him. Kreature failed, bad elf!"

"If you bring us the real locket," Kyle said, "we will destroy it. Our mission is the same as yours. In fact, we'll destroy it right in front of you so you'll know your master's will was done."

Kreature stared at Kyle. "Kreature tried all magic. Locket would not die."

"I have a magical sword," Kyle said dryly.

Eyes wide and misty, Kreature popped away for a split second before returning with a locket in his hands that was identical to the one Amelia held—except for the darkness it exuded. Rather than touch it, Kyle levitated it from the elf's hands. "Yep, this is it," he said. "Black, these things make a mess when the die. Any place in this house that can take a beating?"

"What do you mean, these things? There's more than one?" Sirius demanded.

"Let's just say your brother had the right idea, but insufficient information," Kyle said. "Now, where in this place can we set off an explosion?"

"Well, the cellar, I'd imagine," Sirius finally said.

"Sirius," Amelia said. "Before we do anything else, I need you to make a decision. It's a very important decision. I need you to decide if you are Harry's godfather, or if you are Dumbledore's follower. I'm afraid you can't be both."

Sirius climbed unsteadily to his feet. "What do you mean? Harry's already said he doesn't want me."

"Amelia, this isn't a good idea," Kyle noted.

She raised a hand to the old Jedi. "Kyle, Sirius isn't perfect, but I remember that this man purposely painted himself with a target for Voldemort in order to try and protect his friends. It didn't work, but that took real courage and self-sacrifice." To Sirius, she said, "Our goal is to destroy Voldemort without Harry having to die in the process. Dumbledore's goal is to destroy Voldemort with Harry. And you need to decide, right now, which of those two paths you want to follow."

"Harry said he didn't want me," Sirius said again in a dejected voice.

"Harry gets to ride in spaceships and meet beautiful, buxom alien girls with blue skin," Kyle said. "Would you want to give that up for a dingy old house in London?"

"Blue skin?" Sirius asked.

"His first friend had orange skin, actually," Kyle said as if rethinking himself. "And tentacles instead of hair. But she was still cute."

"Merlin's balls, you men are such dogs," Amelia said with a shake of her head. "Come on, Black. You're with us now."

"Yeah, I guess I am." He led the group down into the cellar of the house, which proved to be even danker and dirty than the upper levels. Once again Amelia provided the light while Kyle placed the locket on an old workbench covered in dust and cobwebs.

"Everyone back up."

At his warning, the rest of the group bunched up close to the door and watched as Kyle lit his saber. The moment he approached the artifact, the locket popped open and a black cloud formed over it. Within it, they could see an attractive woman with slightly Asian features reaching toward Kyle.

"Don't let me fall! Kyle, please don't let me…"

Kyle Katarn did not change expression or hesitate a moment as he brought his saber down. The magical explosion blew him backward, only for him to be caught in a gentle cushion of magic Amelia provided. The hit wizards and aurors had cast magical shields that protected them from the shockwave which shattered everything else in the room.

One he regained his footing, Kyle summoned the now shattered locket and looked down until he saw Kreature standing nearby, hands together as if in prayer. He handed the shattered locket to the elf. "You have done your duty, Kreature," he said. "Your master would be proud of you."

Kreature sniffed. And then popped away.

"Now comes the hard part," Kyle said.

"What do you mean?" Sirius asked.

"I mean finding the rest of the Sith-spawned horcruxes. Come on, we need to talk."

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

Harry felt eyes on him when he left the headmaster's office the night before the Second Task. He didn't respond immediately just because his head was still spinning from all the magic the old wizard showed him. Now that he had completed his OWL and NEWT-level course work, the Headmaster said he saw no reason not to impart more advanced magic.

Finally, though, the sensation grew too strong to ignore. He felt nothing in the Force, but his instincts told him he was being followed. He gripped the cylinder of his saber, newly repaired following the short-out it experienced with the horcrux, and turned a corner at a normal walk.

The moment he turned the corner, he pulled not just on the Force, but also on the link he had as a Jedi with the crystal of his saber. Unlike normal blades, Harry's lightsaber employed a stygium crystal, which apart from having a duel-phase that could elongate the blade, also meant he could tap onto the inherent cloaking aspects of the crystal itself.

He disappeared more thoroughly than any mere disillusionment spell could accomplish. Moments later he heard the faintest scuffle in front of him. Without hesitation, Harry Force-blasted the invisible, Force-blind figure into the far wall. He heard a cry of alarm cut-off by a thud of something hitting the wall, and suddenly a boot appeared. It was a green boot, made with finely-scaled hide of some kind. Frowning, Harry stepped over and grabbed at where the rest of the leg disappeared. His fingers encountered a soft, supple cloth. He pulled it away and stared down at the frightened form of Draco Malfoy.

A frightened Malfoy who happened to be pointing a wand right at his face. Harry had a split second—not enough time to move even with the Force as his ally—before a burst of magic sent him flying away just as hard as his Force-blast to Malfoy.

He hit the wall hard but rolled when he fell to the floor with the cloak still in his hand. Malfoy had already scrambled to his feet and was sprinting away. Harry, without hesitation, followed. Malfoy had a head start, but Harry had the Force. With a burst of inhuman speed, he caught up with the other teenager and kicked his left leg out from under him.

Malfoy slammed into the ground face-first with a startled cry. He rolled onto his back with his wand out, but nothing happened this time. The wand was snapped by his fall. The boy, whose nose and lip were both bloodied from the face-plant into the tiles of the floor, stared in horror. "You broke my wand!" he shouted.

Harry slowly drew his own wand from his Jedi robe. He knew it would resonate more with Malfoy than a lightsaber. "Why did you stab me in the back before the holidays?"

"I didn't do anything," Malfoy said, spitting blood on the floor. "You just attacked me!"

"You stabbed me in the back," Harry said again. "Why?"

"You can't prove anything!" Malfoy shouted back.

Unlike with Malfoy under the cloak, Harry could feel in the Force a new danger surging behind him. He bunched his muscles, and when he saw a flash of light on the walls he launched himself into a backward somersault right over the head of his attacker. The moment he landed, he jumped into a spinning side-kick that sent this new attacker stumbled toward, and then over, Malfoy.

This new attacker, however, was not a student. The air suddenly exploded with a swarm of angry bees. Harry summoned the Force and blew them back at his attacker, while at the same time casting a stunner. The new attacker vanished the bees, conjured a shield that blocked the stunner, and then cast a whole fusillade of magic in a volume greater than any mere student could have managed.

Harry conjured his own shield in the process, but despite all the magic he had recently learned, he was still a novice wizard. It was not enough to know the magic. He'd never used the magic in a practical fashion, much less in a fight. Moreover, his attacker was highly skilled.

Harry had the briefest moment to realize his mistake in not fleeing, or at least moving more, right before a conjured object struck him in the head while he was simultaneously trying to shield against one spell and dodge two more.

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

When he woke, it was due to a sharp, agonizing pain in his stomach. Nor did the pain go away when he woke; rather it pulsed with a sickening anticipation of getting worse. Blinking back crust from his eyes, he found himself in utter darkness marked only by an intense, terrible smell.

He tried to move but realized quickly that the ache in his arms and wrists were due to the robe binding them behind his back. His head was spinning with pain as well, likely from whatever hit him. It felt as if his thoughts were having to plow through molasses.

Although it came slowly he realized the pain in his stomach was coming from the Goblet of Fire. _The second task_.

"Don't panic, Harry," he whispered to himself. "There is no fear. No fear. Right." Closing his eyes again, he drew strongly on the Force and filled himself with its power. It was not a healing trance so much as a cantrip, but it worked well on concussions. In a few moments, the dull, heavy ache in his head faded and his thoughts began to move quickly.

He'd obviously not missed the task yet, since he wasn't dead, but the intensity of the pain told him it was getting closer. Grasping the Force, it was a simple matter to loosen his bindings. He began searching his clothes and sighed in relief when he found his lightsaber. But then he frowned when he found the broken pieces of his wand.

 _Malfoy_.

He stood, only to hit his head on a metal surface. "Sithspit!" he muttered in pain. A quick search with his hands revealed he was in a pipe—the sewer pipes for the castle. That certainly explained the smell, then.

Fighting back an urge to gag, he opened himself once again to the Force in the hopes it might guide his steps. _Help me!_

His answer came not from the Force, but it came nonetheless. A silver form dropped down from the pipe overhead. She did not cast any illumination at all, but he saw the features of the Gray Lady clearly. "You live," she said softly.

"For now," he said. "Can you lead me out of these pipes?"

"You have little time," she noted. "Come."

She turned and flowed down the pipe and he followed, bending over and using his hands against the upper curve of the pipe to steady himself. "Where are we?"

"The sewer leading from the Chamber of Secrets," the ghost of Helena Ravenclaw said. "It was through here that old Salazar's basilisk came to terrorize the school two years prior."

He ran after the silver shade until he stumbled into an old cleaning cupboard. The door was locked, but not magically, and a quick swing of his saber opened it. "Thank you!" he shouted to the Grey Lady before sprinting to his room. Without his wand, he had little hope of performing any magic to accomplish a task that he at least knew was underwater.

But he did have a Jedi rebreather.

Once he had what he needed, Harry ran with a speed only a Jedi could have matched from the castle to the shore of the lake where everyone was gathered. He received several odd looks as he passed, until finally he reached the newly constructed wooden platform that held at least a hundred VIP spectators, the four judges, and no one else.

The other competitors must have already been in the water. The fact that the pain was gone told Harry he wasn't too late, but it was a damned close call. "Where have you been?" Dumbledore asked anxiously as he stepped down from the judge's booth.

"You wouldn't believe me," Harry said darkly. He then removed his broken wand from his robes and tossed them to the old man. "And since it was one of your staff that broke my wand, you can handle its replacement. Now, how late am I?"

"The other contestants started just minutes ago," Ludo Bagman said helpfully as he too came down to see what was happening.

Harry nodded before removing his Jedi robes and placing them on the platform. He continued to strip down to just his slacks and his rebreather.

"We will have to deduct points for you not being here on time!" Headmaster Karkaroff declared pompously from the booth.

Harry snorted before he dismissed the man and started breathing heavily. He drew on the Force, squatted down, and then sprinted forward from the platform, and then onto the water. He didn't care what it looked like to the spectators as he ran lightly over the waves, borne by the Force. Jedi had been known to walk on water before—Luke Skywalker once walked on magma inside a volcano.

He continued sprinting across the water, held aloft by the Force, until he felt his goal nearby. He pushed the breather in, leapt up and then dove down into the bitingly cold water. He pushed his hands in front of his eyes and again called upon the Force to help propel him into the depths. It was difficult to equalize the pressure within his body, as that was one of the more esoteric skills most Jedi were taught later in their training, and not something he had to do often. But if nothing else, it was a good exercise.

Without his wand he could cast not magical light, but a Jedi did not need eyes to see. He could feel four bright presences in the Force nearby, surrounded by cooler Force presences all around—the merpeople, he suspected.

He swam down almost directly onto the merpeople village, bypassing most of the many hazards of the lake, until he reached one presence that called out to him. He lit his saber, and by its dark light saw Hermione chained to a post, eyes closed. Her Force presence felt strong and alive, just asleep, so he knew magic was preserving her.

He felt a new presence and turned to see a half-man, half-shark creature zip by another pole, grabbing the chain and yanking another hostage away. Assured of the nature of the task, Harry cut Hermione's bonds, hooked his saber again, and started swimming toward the surface. He tried very, very hard not to think about the feel of her body in his left arm as he swam with his right, especially when her drag in the water forced his hand into her armpit, and his forearm across her…

 _I'm not thinking about it! A Jedi is above such thoughts._

But in the back of his mind, he heard Kyle snort.

The moment they broke the surface of the lake, Hermione sputtered awake. "Harry!" she screamed in alarm, pawing at him. "I can't swim!"

Her panicked struggles almost made him lose his grip. "Hermione, stop! I've got you, I promise."

"But…but…we're in the middle of the lake!"

He spun her around, treading water as he did so, until he looked her in the eyes. "I've got you," he said in a low, calm voice. "I won't let you go. Just relax, and I'll swim for us both, okay?"

Staring at him, their faces so close, Harry saw her cheeks redden. "Okay, Harry," she said softly. "But if we drown, I'm going to kill you."

"Noted. Now, lay back. I'm going to put one arm around your stomach, and swim with you. We'll be going fast, okay?"

She nodded and did as instructed, and as soon as his arm crossed a safer part of her body, Harry looked to the distant platform, pulled on the Force, and started swimming. He was conscious of the drag again pulling her down, until his arms were across the middle of her rip cage. Her own hands held on to his arm as well, but he was painfully aware of where his arm was.

He was also thankful, for the first time, how cold the water was.

Finally they reached the platform. Viktor Krum was already there with a younger boy in a Durmstrange uniform, both covered in heavy blankets. Nearby, a forlorn Fleur Delacour sat crying, her legs covered in painful looking bite marks that were oozing a green pus. Madam Pomfrey and Headmistress Maxime were both casting magic at the leg. There was no sign of her hostage.

Harry and Hermione just cleared the edge of the platform, to be enveloped in magically warmed blankets when Cedric Diggory and his hostage, Cho Change, cleared the water. Once they were on the platform, Dumbledore walked to the edge of the water and dipped his wand into the lake.

Just minutes later, the merpeople emerged carrying a miniature version of Fleur. The Beauxbatons student burst out into a fresh round of now relieved tears as she gathered the girl from Dumbledore and held her tight.

Harry, meanwhile, shivered and tried hard not to think how close he came to dying.

* * *

sp

Thanks for reading.


	23. And One Ring To Curse Them All

A/N: Review responses are in my forums. It's been a difficult few months for me, so I apologize for the grumpiness in my responses. At least a little. Maybe. Oh well. Look, another Kyle Katarn joke!

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Three: And One Ring To Curse Them All**

Kyle Katarn doesn't cheat death. He beats it fair and square.

Albus Dumbledore rose from the pensieve where he watched Harry's memory of his attack the previous evening. Harry stood across from the magical bowl with his arms across. The headmaster met his gaze squarely.

"Severus was in a meeting with both myself and Professor McGonagall when that attack occurred," the old wizard said tiredly. "Which, of course, means either your attacker was someone assuming Severus's appearance, or Severus used a time-turner. Given his new appointment from the Ministry of Magic, the latter seems more likely."

"A time turner?" Harry asked, less sure of himself.

"A device that creates a closed loop in time—in effect limited time travel."

"He tried to kill me."

"Unfortunately, there is no way to prove it, Harry. Minister Fudge has begun a crusade to discredit me. I received notice that my appointment as Chief Warlock has been terminated. Without Madam Bone's support in the Ministry, and with Madam. Longbottom and Mr. Ogden under a propaganda assault as well, I have no traction at the minister. My word means nothing, and your word, sadly, means even less."

The old man sighed and walked back to his desk. Harry followed until Dumbledore reached his desk first and picked up Harry's wand, now fully intact.

Harry stared at it in surprise. "But…but…even Remus said wands were not reparable!"

"Some wands are more powerful than others," Dumbledore said before walking back to glowing pensieve. "It was an impressive performance during the Second Task, Mr. Potter. It was problematic that Headmaster Karkaroff insisted on penalizing your time, so you came in only third, but the fact you started late and finished as well as you did was very well done. In a few months, the third task will be upon us. But before then, I have come onto some information that I think requires our immediate attention."

Harry followed the wizard back to the bowl. "Information?"

"We have discussed Voldemort's dark artifacts at great length," Dumbledore said. He reached into the cabinet build around the pensieve and lifted a phial of silver memories. "An old friend of mine recently contacted me about an experience he had as a young auror. He shared this memory with me. I think you should view it as well."

Having already viewed several memories as part of his "lessons" Harry had no reason to refuse, and in moments he felt the disorienting sensation of falling into another memory. He found himself in a thick, tangled wood as man of limited stature and expanded girth, with thick bottle glasses, made his way through the bramble in a strange mix of rock coat and spats over a striped one-piece bathing suit that might have been in fashion for men a century or so ago.

"That is Bob Ogden, former Chief Hit Wizard of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad," Dumbledore said from beside Harry within the memory. Harry watched as Ogden encountered the twisted, disgusting people in the shack, who spouted threats and hate at him in a constant dialogue.

"How can he just stand there while they threaten to kill him?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore turned and stared with one brow raised. "So you can understand them, can you? I'd wondered, truthfully. They are speaking Parstletongue—the magical language of snakes. All I can hear is hissing. No doubt, old Bob heard the same."

Eventually an older man, who looked slightly less deranged, pulled the younger back from the door and Bob Ogden stepped into the house. The meeting concerned a summons for Morfin Gaunt to appear at the Ministry for Magic to answer charges of cursing a Muggle.

The most interesting part of the meeting, though, was the emaciated girl Ogden greeted. Harry frowned at the way the other men treated her. She was in truth ugly in appearance, with large, protuberant eyes, one of which pointed outward. Her hair was long, lank and thin, and though she was very young, she moved like someone twice her age, with a defeated cowering in her steps.

Harry barely followed Ogden's conversation; instead, he watched how the two men of the house belittled and abused the girl. The abuse turned quickly against Ogden, however, ending in an exchange of jinxes and curses until Ogden fled.

The memory skipped forward to a scene of fighting as Ogden returned with more wizards and took the two men into custody. The girl remained alone in the house after, and Ogden's last look was of a woman frozen by possibilities.

They emerged from the memory. "Who was that?" Harry asked.

"That, Harry, was Marvolo, Morfin and Merope Gaunt—the last living descendants of Salazar Slytherin. During the exchange, did you notice Marvolo wearing any jewelry?"

Harry concentrated on the memory, since his attention was primarily on the girl. "Yes. A locket in his vest pocket, and a ring."

"Very good. Those two items are the only known heirlooms of Salazar Slytherin. And given Tom's parentage, I have no doubt that he would have used both to ensure his continued immortality."

"You found one?"

"What I have found, Harry, is the shack in that memory. And I would like you to accompany me to it, as I suspect it might have some rather specific enchantments on it. I cannot say for sure which of those items might be there, but I strongly suspect at least one of them is there."

"When do we go?"

"Now would be appropriate. You're arm?"

Glancing once more around the office, Harry took the wizard's arm. "I thought you couldn't apparate in Hogwarts."

Dumbledore didn't smirk. He was much too dignified for that. And yet… " _You_ can't." With that, they apparated out.

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

"Boss, you're going to need to see this," Alastor Gumboil said as he walked into the safe house.

Amelia and Kyle were both pouring through the materials gleamed from Slughorn's party and looked up as the older hit wizard entered. He walked straight to them and placed a piece of parchment on the table already littered with parchment and paper, before he made his way to the kitchen for a shot of Ogden's firewhiskey.

Amelia frowned as she looked at the parchment. "Is that in code?" Kyle asked.

"Standard spell encryption," she said before placing her wand on the sheet. The letters began rearranging themselves into a more legible message. She began cursing a quarter of the way through before throwing the parchment down.

The moment she did so, the letters reverted back to their encryption. "What?" Kyle asked flatly.

"Azkaban," she said. "Gumboil, how'd you get this?"

"Stole it, of course," Gumboil said. "Scrimgeour's been appointed as your replacement. The man wouldn't know internal security if it nipped his bollocks off. Just walked in and took it off his desk."

Amelia shook her head in disgust.

"Amelia?" Kyle said calmly.

"Sorry," she muttered. "There's been a mass breakout at Azkaban—all of Voldemort's supporters who were caught and imprisoned at the end of the last war are free now. Worse yet, there's a gag-order on the news. Fudge doesn't want anyone to know."

Kyle leaned back in his chair. "How many?"

"At least twenty," Amelia said. "The worst of the worst. These were the ones so loyal to Voldemort that they went to Azkaban happily. Barty Crouch Jr was typical of them."

Kyle rubbed his beard as he considered it. "His inner circle—the Lestranges. Malfoy. Dolohov and Yaxley. Who else?"

"Rookwood, Travers, Rowle," Amelia added. "Others. Why?"

"Who would he have trusted to hide something important?"

Gumboil walked back to the table with a tumbler of flaming liquor. "Malfoy had the diary. But it's doubtful he knew what it really was."

"Rookwood was a former Unspeakable," Amelia said. "If anyone knew Voldemort's secrets, it'd be him. Bellatrix is another possibility, but for all her fanaticism, she was a mediocre witch at best. I took her down myself after the Longbottom attack. Rookwood, though, was dangerous. I wouldn't try to take him without backup."

"He was among the escapees," Gumboil said. "He still had contacts in the Department of Mysteries, so he might try to go back in."

"How do we get him?" Kyle asked.

Amelia, though, tapped the table with a finger. "It may be time to bring in some help, boys. It just so happens that we have a few friends in the Department of Mysteries."

"Saul Croaker?" Gumboil asked.

"I was thinking of Bode, but the two are two peas in a pod," Amelia said. "They're no friends of Fudge."

"I'll set it up," Gumboil said. He gulped down his liquor and left the room with the same weary step he entered.

"Good man," Kyle noted.

"Lost his wife and kids in the last war," Amelia said. "I don't think I've seen him smile since."

Kyle said nothing because there was nothing to say.

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

Harry and Dumbledore arrived outside the thicket from the memory. It was just as overgrown and wild as the memory of a time almost half a century before. Dumbledore led the way through the thick overgrowth, occasional slashing his wand to clear a path. Finally, they reached the shack itself.

Nettles grew up around all the walls, reaching up almost to the roof, which had collapsed in several spots, and in others showed rafters where tiles had fallen or rotted away. The whole structure looked on the verge of collapse.

Nailed on the door was a snake. It wasn't the snake from the memory they viewed, because this snake was recently killed. It still retained its scales, and on the mantle of the door below Harry could see a pile of droppings as the body decomposed. The smell tainted the air around it as it was not a small snake at all.

Over the whole structure, Harry sensed a deep, pervasive darkness in the air. The Dark Side of the Force thrummed powerfully within the house and he felt a pull and prick from his scar. "It's in there," Harry said with certainty.

Dumbeldore turned and studied Harry intently. "You're sure?"

Harry nodded. "I'm sure."

They stepped closer to the house and to Harry's disgust the dead snake suddenly writhed on the nail. It somehow turned its head and stared at Harry with empty sockets. _Who dares disturb my sleep?_

"What did it say, Harry?" Dumbledore asked urgently. Upon hearing Harry's translation, the old wizard nodded. "It's a line from the journal of Salazar Slytherin—when he encountered his first Basilisk while aiding Otto the Great in his battles against the Magyars. Repeat what I say: 'I am a humble seeker of knowledge'."

Harry dutifully repeated the line, speaking what he thought was English to the snake. However, Dumbledore nodded with a pleased smile as the snake nodded. " _Then pass, and learn thy lessons well_."

The door swung open. "Oh, well done!" Dumbledore said. "Well done indeed. There were enchantments on that door we would have been hard-pressed to bypass. Come, let us be quick but careful."

The interior of the shack smelled of death and decay. Amidst the piles of broken furniture, Harry saw mounds of rodent and snake skeletons, and other small animals that either nested within the building, or were dragged there by their killers. With the overgrowth all around, it cast the whole structure into darkness despite the light of the day outside.

Once he stepped foot inside, however, Harry also felt the increasing pain in his scar just like he felt with the diadem. Also like before, he opened himself up to both the Force and the agony it led him to a spot of dirty but otherwise empty flooring near a partially collapsed fireplace. He pointed down at the flooring. "Under there," he said.

"How do you know?" Dumbledore asked.

"I can feel it," Harry said through gritted teeth.

Even in the dim light, Harry noticed how Dumbledore's eyes flitted however briefly to his scar before focusing on the floor. With a few deft flicks of his wand he banished the wood of the floorboards to reveal a shining, golden box no more than four inches square. "Oh, Tom," Dumbledore said softly, and yet still with a note of profound disappointment. "Harry, stand back. The box and the area around it is cursed."

Harry did as he was instructed and then watched with wide eyes as the master wizard attacked the defenses of the box. Even with all his studies and Dumbledore's book, Harry could not identify all the magic the Headmaster employed, as he did so with utter silence and a profound level of concentration approaching that of the Jedi masters themselves.

The air _snarled_. Harry felt the hair on his arms and neck stand as around him he smelled ozone and felt a dread sensation of rage, hunger and destruction. Still, Dumbledore stood like a beacon of white magic amidst the dark, his wand in constant motion. Still, the motion was subtle and efficient—he did not broadcast his wand movements, but rather did just enough to impart the magic he wished to use. It was amazing to watch and as humbling in its own way as some of the memories he'd viewed of the last war.

A shimmering dome of brightly lit shadow formed over the whole in the floorboards, a visible darkness that Harry had seen only in certain dark stygium crystal ligthsabers. But this darkness exuded the _intent_ of a desire to destroy. The darkness around it was so profound that it could only be described as evil.

And still Dumbledore strove against it, pitting his formidable magic against the terrifying darkness that Voldemort had wrought in this house.

That lingering _snarl_ turned into chilling, raging _roar_ until, with a sudden downward thrust of Dumbledore's wand and a half-audible grunt of effort, the dome shattered in an explosive release of magic that sent Harry sprawling backward. He kept his feet, but saw that Dumbledore himself had falling back into a pile of filthy debris, some of which puffed up in a cloud of dust, powdered rodent bone, and more than likely a great deal of powdered droppings.

The old man waved his wand, and in an instant the cloud of dust was gone. "If you would, Harry?"

Harry nodded, stepped forward, and helped Dumbledore regain his feet. Once standing, the old wizard waved his wand over his head and instantly he was clean. "Well, that was invigorating," he said once clean. "A most unusual curse. Curses, if I am to be precise."

"More than one?"

"In reality, it was the Dark Arts equivalent of a multi-layered warding scheme," Dumbledore said. "Curses layered upon curses, each changing the nature of the last, until in the end it created something unique and truly terrible. If either of us had touched that box, the results would have been infinitely worse than mere death."

Harry shuddered as he considered that. With a glance at the headmaster, who nodded his approval, Harry knelt down and picked the box up before handing it over. Dumbledore touched his wand to it several times, probing both physically and magically, until he determined it was safe.

He opened the box to reveal an elaborately crafted gold ring set with a large, cracked, pyramidal black stone engraved with a bisected circle within a triangle. The ring exuded an auror of darkness and death on a level even greater than the curse on the box itself.

Which is why Harry was so surprised when Dumbledore took the ring, dropped the box, and slipped it onto his right hand as if he were trying on a ring at a store. Harry stared, shocked, as the old headmaster's ring finger immediately turned black and began to wither. "Professor!"

The wizard began to shake as he stared with wide blue eyes at what was obviously a curse. He pulled his wand with his left hand and began to cast, but still the curse spread. Dumbledore moaned in pain even as he kept casting magic. The black of the curse spread up into his knuckles.

Harry reacted instinctively, not as a wizard, but as a Jedi. He spun away, activated his saber, and with one swipe Dumbledore's arm fell away from his body at the elbow, landing on the floor with a dull thud. Even as it fell, the hand continued to blacken. Still moving on instinct, Harry turned the saber point down.

"Harry, no…!" Dumbeldore said a split second before Harry stabbed the saber directly into the ring.

What followed was entirely predictable. The magical backlash flashed out like a conventional explosion which blasted the shack apart and sent Harry and Dumbledore flying in opposite directions into the thicket surrounding the shack.

Of course, the difference was that Harry somersaulted mid-way through his trajectory and landed on his feet with a healthy flex of his knees. Dumbledore landed on his back with an explosive out-rushing of breath.

Harry ran back through the shattered foundations of the shack. "Professor! Professor Dumbledore!"

He found the wizard where he had fallen staring up at what light was visible through the bramble. At first, Harry feared the old man was dead, but as he approached, he saw eyelids blink. "Professor, are you alright?"

"I appear to be missing something," Dumbledore said breathlessly. Harry tried to figure out if he was being sarcastic or not, but dismissed the idea. He could feel the old wizard in the Force, perhaps for the first time, because he no longer was shielding himself. What he felt was pain, exhaustion, fear, and a raging anger directed solely at himself.

Harry knelt down and checked the severed arm to ensure it was a clean cut. Reaching out with his senses, he could not detect any traces of the curse. "I…I think I got it off in time," he said.

Dumbledore blinked and held up the stump of his arm, staring at it blankly for a moment. "Remarkable," he whispered. "I can still feel my fingers."

"Professor, I…"

"You saved my life, Harry," Dumbledore said, after blinking his eyes slowly. "In all my life, I'd never experienced darkness so profound. I'm not sure I could have defeated it. It never dawned on me to just cut away the curse."

Harry chose to say nothing as Dumbledore continued to study his stump. "It is cauterized!"

"Only thinly—it'll start to bleed very soon," Harry said. "We need to get you to Madam Pomfrey."

Dumbledore accepted this without argument and allowed Harry to help him to his feet for a second time. However, unlike the last, he leaned heavily on Harry's arm. "The ring, was it destroyed?"

Assured the professor would not collapse, Harry jogged back to the remnants of the shack where he saw the ring, still on one desiccated finger, cut in half from his saber. There was no sign of the rest of the arm. Harry knelt down and hovered his hand around the ring. He felt nothing from it—it was now inert both in the Force and in magic.

He lifted it and carried it back to the professor. "It's been destroyed."

Dumbledore accepted the broken ring with his left hand. Harry didn't understand the expression of loss he saw on the professor's face as he stared down. "We must not leave trace of this day's activities," he finally said. He slipped the ring into a pocket of his robe, and despite having just experienced an amputation and an explosion, he lifted his wand with his left hand and began to cast.

It was a simple _reparo_ , but on a scale and scope Harry had never imagined. He watched, astounded, as the shattered shack began to repair itself, even down to the golden box under the floor boards. The curse was gone, but by the time Dumbledore was done, there was no visible sign that the shack had just been destroyed.

"It will withstand a cursory glance, but if he comes in person, Tom will detect the missing curses and wards," the Professor said. "Now, we must return to the…"

And Dumbledore fainted. Harry, half-expecting it, still felt a sense of shock and surprise when the wizard collapsed into his arms. Having experienced true apparation, and having done so himself as a younger man, Harry did not hesitate to grab Dumbledore and try to apparate back to Hogwarts.

The surprise came when he succeeded and the two landed on the floor of Dumbledore's office. Harry looked up at the surprised portraits. "He's hurt, I need Madam Pomfrey up here!"

The portraits all began shouting questions, but evidently some of them did as they were told, because just moments later Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall came rushing into the room. "Albus!" McGonagall all but wailed.

Pomfrey, though, stayed silent and pursed her lips as she fell to her knees next to the wizard. She flicked her wand over the stump, casting a spell that seemed to freeze the seeping, bleeding wound. "Is this a curse wound?" she asked shortly.

Harry, unsure how much he could say, shook his head. "He touched a cursed object that started killing his hand. He tried fighting it, but it looked like he was failing. So…I took his arm off to save the rest of him."

"What in Merlin's name were you doing?" McGonagall said.

However, Pomfrey continued casting. "I can detect residuals of it," she said. "It's dark—a withering curse, but one stronger than I've ever seen. Minerva, I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to take more of his arm off. We can't let that curse reestablish itself or he'll die. In fact, it's only by Mr. Potter's actions he's alive."

With that, the mediwitch stood and levitated the headmaster out of the office, leaving McGonagall and Harry alone. "I repeat, what were you doing?" she asked.

"Professor, I'm not sure how much liberty I am in to say," Harry admitted. "He asked me to come with him and we both knew it was dangerous. Beyond that, I'm afraid I'm going to have to refer you back to Professor Dumbledore."

McGonagall stared hard at Harry as if he were a student caught red-handed in a dastardly prank. But Harry stared right back as if he were the only reason her precious headmaster still lived. And after a moment, she seemed to accept that fact. "Albus had reasons for keeping his peace. If what Poppy said was true, then he—and all those who care about him—owe you. For now, however, we must keep this quiet. I hesitate to think what Severus or the Minister will do to you if they find out Albus was hurt."

Harry could only nod. Trapped as he was by the tournament, he was virtually at the mercy of Severus Snape and his true master.

She turned and left him alone in Dumbledore's office, under the gaze of all the former headmasters. "You shouldn't be here alone, young man," one of the portraits said pompously.

Harry snorted. "I shouldn't be here at all." He then turned and left the room.


	24. A Mystery Even Unto Himself

A/N: I was able to sleep for the first time in two weeks last night. Granted, it took a tumbler of brandy, three advil and some prednisone, but I'll take what I can get. So hopefully my review responses for Chap 23 will not be as grumpy as they have been recently.

I was considering ending things with this story and not posting Stars Alone. As I've mentioned, I've not been able to write for several months now and am coasting on established material. But I have over 200000 words written of the empire-building that I hinted at in Broken Chains, but never proceeded with. I ever work in some Arthurian archetypes and the Evil Overlord List, sort of. So, at least for now, I intent to post and finish the upcoming Broken Chains sequel before I step back and decide whether I wish to continue writing fanfiction or not. I'll post notes on my profile so no one has to guess.

And now, Kyle finds a mystery, and Amelia gets gnawed on by a crocodile. Enjoy.

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Four: A Mystery Even Unto Himself**

The Pen is only mightier than the sword when Kyle Katarn wields the pen.

The Ministry of Magic was an astonishing mix of modern and archaic; Muggle and magical.

Kyle followed Amelia out of the lift in his newly appropriated Unspeakable robe, and fought not to stare. It wasn't that he'd never encountered huge or sumptuous surroundings before. The Imperial Palace on Bastion was larger, in and of itself, than the whole city of London. But what truly astonished him was the amount of space the ministry occupied _underneath London._

The very existence of the cavernous space was a powerful testament to magic, as there was no other way it could exist otherwise. There were whole walls filled with floor after floor of offices, which confused Kyle because it didn't seem there were enough magicals in the kingdom to justify such a large bureaucracy.

Kyle ignored the elaborate if very, very tacky fountain and instead looked with interest at the people of the Ministry. It was in truth the first time he'd been around so many wizards in the open and his stay in the castle was not typical of wizarding society at large.

What he saw was a living contradiction in terms—an insular society smug in its superiority while stagnating in isolation. The people wore old Muggle styles under their robes, but the clothes themselves were off even to Kyle's non-Terran eyes. Over all, though, he sensed a tension in the air of the whole ministry, like animals before a storm. Many of the people knew something bad was coming, they just couldn't clearly identify what it was. Those that knew were either too scared to speak about it, or eager to usher it in.

They reached the lift and headed down to the ninth level below the main atrium, to the Department of Mysteries. The moment they stepped off the lift they were met by a figure in the same gray robes they wore, with a charmed cowl hiding every hint of their face. Within the hood, Kyle heard a hollow voice whisper to him: " _This way. Do not speak."_

They stepped further into a larger room filled with various doors that abruptly began to spin around them so fast Kyle couldn't make out anything but a blue. Just as quick, the doors stopped and their guide led them to one that seemed no different than the rest.

They emerged in what could only be described as a hexagonal interrogation room, but one walled completely in transparent glass. In its center stood a plain, empty metal desk. Only as Kyle stepped toward it, however, did he see that the table was covered in magical runes. Beyond the glass, through each of the six walls, he could see a different setting. One was a seemingly endless hall filled with glowing orbs; the second an empty amphitheater filled with only a black stone arch; a third had tanks filled with tentacle brains; the fourth had glass containers of sparkling sand and walls of large, clunky clock-like devices. He noticed one was missing. The fifth looked like a remarkably detailed, accurate depiction of the Terran solar system, while the last was simply a locked door at the end of a long hall.

Their guide removed his cowl revealing a man with long jowls, heavy eyelids, a long nose and a permanent down-turn to his bloodless lips. He was in fact one of the most morose men Kyle had ever seen. "You may remove your hoods. No one can see us here." Even his voice was low and dull, like the pealing of an old bell calling mourners to a funeral mass.

Kyle and Amelia both complied. The Unspeakable studied them both a moment before nodding. "I'm glad you're not dead, Bones. I wasn't sure I could believe Gumboil when he told me."

"Thank you, Bode. I would be, if not for Katarn," Amelia said with a nod.

"Ah, yes. The wizard from beyond the stars," Bode said. "We've watched you with some interest, Katarn. You're arrival greatly upset our Diviners. Supposedly you've disrupted half a dozen prophecies."

"Good. I hate prophecies."

"Yes." The Unpseakable left the word hanging awkwardly before he turned and pointed to the wall which showed the room of clocks and sand. "A time turner is unaccounted for. Given the protections here, it is highly unlikely it was stolen by someone from outside the department. And so we have accepted your word that Augustus Rookwood is attempting to infiltrate the Department."

"That's good, Bode. And?" Amelia asked.

Bode stared at her blankly for a moment and Kyle began to suspect the man's behavior was not a play, but rather he was so socially unskilled he did not know how to speak to people in a normal fashion.

"He attempted to place me under the _Imperius_ yesterday," the old wizard said. "Fortunately, following Gumboil's warning, we took precautions. He believes I was able to remove a certain prophecy pertaining to the Dark Lord and Harry Potter from its place on the shelf, but was so badly injured in the process I could not take it out of the department."

He touched a series of runes, and one of the glass walls zoomed into the chamber with the black stone arch. On the arch's raised platform they could see a single glowing orb.

"A trap," Amelia said with an approving nod. "Very good. Who do you have to capture him?"

Bode stared back at her, and then Kyle, before glancing down at the table. "He is coming. He appears to be wearing his own Unspeakable robes. Be aware the robes are charmed with several layers of magical protections."

Kyle noticed Amelia pale. "You don't have any back up?"

Bode shrugged. "The Department does not wish it known we have been infiltrated and you do not wish it known you yet live."

"But this is Rookwood," Amelia said. "Do you really think we can take him?"

Bode shrugged again. "I must play my part. When the time comes, do as I do now."

With that, the Unspeakable pulled his hood back over his head and then stepped through the glass wall into the arch chamber, appearing within the chamber itself as if by silent apparition. He walked toward the raised dais, laid down on the steps and then stretched out an arm toward the glowing orb, as if he had just fallen and dropped it.

"How good is this Rookwood?" Kyle asked.

Amelia frowned. "He gave me quite the pasting back in '80," she admitted. "Twice, no less. It was Alastor Moody who saved my arse then."

"Alastor…Moody. Not Gumboil?"

"There were three Alastors in my class at Hogwarts alone," Amelia said dryly. "I know ten off the top of my head."

"Right." Kyle considered the chamber, studying it. "Do you think you could last long enough to get his back turned to wherever we emerge from?"

Amelia ground her teeth. "Yes."

"Then how 'bout you go in first, get his attention and distract him, and then I ambush him."

"It's worth a shot," Amelia admitted. She leaned on the table, bent over and rubbed the joint of her flesh and artificial leg. "Damned, I hate this."

Kyle said nothing; he simply looked at her with his one good eye. "When this is over, and this dark lord of yours is done, what are you planning on doing?"

"Clean up," Amelia said. "It's obvious from Fudge's behavior he's not fit to be minister. So, we clean out the Ministry and do what we can to keep this from happening ever again."

"And then?"

Amelia shrugged. "I try not to plan too far ahead, Kyle. It leads to too much disappointment. What about you?"

"I need to complete Harry's training as a Jedi," Kyle said resolutely. "When he thought I died, he touched the Dark Side, however briefly. He needs to learn enough control to overcome that temptation in the future. After that…well, frankly I'm supposed to be retired."

Amelia smirked. "You are older than dirt."

At that moment, a new figure stepped into the arch chamber. Like Bode, he wore a gray robe with a cowl that was charmed to hide his features. Kyle watched as Amelia stared at the newcomer with grim resolve. "Be quick," she said softly. "With my leg, I'm at a disadvantage with a superior duelist."

"Get his back turned," Kyle said. "And I'm there."

With that, Amelia stepped through the glass wall. Kyle watched as the other newcomer looked up in alarm. "Who are you?" he said aloud, despite the cowl.

Amelia answered with a powerful blasting curse, which the other wizard batted away contemptuously. "Ah, Amelia Bones" the wizard said, somehow recognizing her wand or magic. "I wondered if the trap actually caught you or not. Now doubt your Muggle lover is in the control room waiting, as well. Well, let's see how he likes…this."

The man ducked, spun his wand and jabbed it forward. Amelia tried ducking away, but with an artificial leg she just wasn't fast enough. In a strange bit of what seemed at first like luck, the spell did not strike her body, but the very artificial limb that slowed her.

Abruptly, the artificial limb changed into a twelve-foot long crocodile, with its jaws latched firmly on the stump her leg. Amelia screamed in anguished pain and Kyle charged out of the glass wall.

"And there is our…"

The explosion of Force lightning from Kyle's hands filled the entire chamber, not just with light, but with a numbing, ear-splitting _crack_. The power slammed into Rookwood and threw him bodily into a far wall. Rather than press the attack, Kyle spun and threw his saber in a spinning arch through the neck of the transfigured crocodile. The blade returned to his hand just in time to swipe away a curse from the Unspeakable, who somehow had recovered from a burst of power that would have killed a dozen men.

"So the Space Muggle has power," Rookwood said in a high-pitched, taunting voice. "Well try this on, old man."

The wizard began conjuring. Swarms of bees, packs of wolves and bears appeared out of thin air and descended on Kyle, while the wizard at the same time continued firing a fusillade of curses. Kyle swept the bees away with the Force, decapitated the bear with his saber and blasted the five wolves with the Force and threw them toward the ever-moving wizard. He let the Force guide him around the curses, though it took every bit of strength and agility his old body still possessed, and he did not escape unscathed as he felt burning magic clip him in several spots.

Still the animals came—tigers and more bears, lions and manticores. The wizard's conjuring skill was astounding and frightening.

The fight changed, however, when Broderick Bode stood up from his play acting, brandished his wand, and Kyle tensed for the possibility of betrayal. He was not at all sure he'd be able to fight both men, especially given he was barely holding his own against the one. However, his fears were quickly proven unfounded.

Bode flicked his wand, and suddenly Rookwood's arms snapped to his side, his feet snapped together, and he fell over with a loud, metallic clang. "Bode, you'll pay for this!" Rookwood screamed.

Kyle sagged with exhaustion when he saw the fight was over. "What happened?"

"He is wearing an Unspeakable Cloak," Bode said in his low, doleful voice. "Which has a petrifying charm that only the Head Unspeakable can activate. A safety feature, you see, when we began studying cognivores. Occasionally one would overcome an Unspeakable and he would go about causing mischief until he was stopped."

Kyle limped past Bode to where Amelia lay looking up at the ceiling with a profound expression of disgust and pain. Her eyes glistened. "Bugger me, he did it again!" she growled.

He collapsed onto the step next to where she laid and studied the bloodied, mangled stump of her right leg. "It won't make you feel any better, but he came damned close to getting me too." He glanced up to where Bode had removed Rookwood's wand and was levitating him closer to where the other two were. "So, why'd you wait to do that?" he demanded.

Bode looked at the two a moment before shrugging. "We wished to see what space wizards could do. Are you the best they have to offer?"

Kyle snorted. "Luke Skywalker could level this building. Sithspit, I bet his son Ben could too. I'm not the best, nor most powerful. I'm just the most stubborn."

"Good to know," Bode said. "Rookwood is one of our best. I dare say even Dumbledore himself would have been hard pressed to defeat the man in straight combat. A shame he chose to dedicate himself to an insurgent. The best magical research for us occurs during times of stability, not civil war. Now, if you will assist me?"

Not only was Rookwood's robe stiffened to paralyze him, it actually felt metallic when Kyle helped Bode remove the cowl to reveal a lean, pock-marked face framed by straggly, unwashed gray hair. Dark eyes stared hatred up at them as the man spat. Fortunately, both Bode and Kyle were far enough away to evade the projectile.

"I'll tell you nothing!" Rookwood hissed.

"Oh, don't be so sure," Bode said. He reached into his robe and slipped on a thick, metal gauntlet. "You, of all people, must realize we have ways of making you talk."

"My _occlumancy_ is stronger than any potion or _legillimens_ you have!" Rookwood snapped.

"Perhaps," Bode allowed. "Which is why we won't bother with those approaches." With his metallic gauntlet, Bode reached into yet another previously hidden pocket of his robes and removed a…living brain, pulsing with an odd, viscous slime and twitching with a series of tentacles from its base. "Have you met my friend Pep the Cognivore?"

Rookwood's eyes bulged. "You wouldn't dare!" he screamed. "That's illegal! The Minister will…"

"My dear," Bode said. "This is the Department of Mysteries. And you are still an Unspeakable, despite your crimes. No one will hear you scream, and no one will ever hear your tale but us. Speak now, or Pep will speak for you."

"You're lying," Rookwood said. "Not even you, Bode, would do something like that."

"You'd think so," Bode said, and for the first time Kyle saw the man smile, though it was utterly devoid of humor, or even humanity, for that matter. "But then, your master went and murdered my dear sister and her family last war, didn't he? It changes a man, watching loved ones die screaming like I did."

And with that. Bode dropped the cognivore directly onto Rookwood's face. Instantly tentacles stabbed into the Death Eater's head and neck as he screamed and convulsed in agony so strong Kyle felt it throbbing in the Force.

"What the blazes is that thing?" Amelia demanded in horror.

"A failed, magical attempt to create a living computer," Bode answered as he stared clinically down at the still twitching man. "We removed the brains of several prisoners at Azkaban who were sentenced to be kissed by Dementors, kept them alive through a form of necromancy, and tried to use a runic matrix to make them store and release information."

"What happened?" Kyle asked, fascinated and revolted.

"They retained the personalities of their original selves and went quite insane. This one, however, was altered by having portions of its frontal lobe and cortex trimmed and suppressed. Now, it is the most powerful interrogation tool the Department of Mysteries has, because it opens a door directly into the subconscious. For example, Augustus, old friend, can you hear me?"

"YES." The voice gurgled and echoed as it spoke; Kyle could not tell if it came from Rookwood, the Cognivore, or both.

"Why does your master want this prophecy?"

"To see what connection he has with the Potter boy," Rookwood answered.

"How does he know about the Prophecy?"

"SNAPE TOLD HIM."

"Is that why he chose to attack the Potters?"

"YES."

Kyle leaned forward, and said, "What do you know of Horcruxes?"

Rookwood said nothing, and Bode motioned Kyle for silence. "He can only hear me because I charmed Pep. Augustus, old friend, do you know why your master did not die when his body was destroyed?"

"YES."

"Tell us, please."

"SOUL JARS."

"How many did he make, and what are they?"

"SIX. I DO NOT KNOW ALL, ONLY THE ONE I ASSISTED HIM WITH AFTER HE REGAINED HIS BODY. NAGINI, HIS SNAKE."

Nearby, Amelia hissed in alarm. "He's regained his body? How?"

"It doesn't matter now," Kyle said darkly. "Ask him if anyone else would know what they all are?"

"Augustus, is there anyone your master trusts enough to divulge what and where his soul jars are?"

"BELLA."

"Bellatrix Lestrange," Amelia interpreted.

"Where is she?" Bode asked.

"MALFOYS."

Bode leaned back. "We have little time left. Is there anything else you wished to ask?"

"Yes. Ask him how he intends to get to Potter."

Bode repeated the question dutifully. The answer chilled Kyle. "POTTER WILL COME TO HIM."

The pulsing brain suddenly went limp and slid off Rookwood's face, leaving the man staring blankly up at the black depths of the ceiling, jaws agape. "Well, a most useful conversation," Bode said. He stood, and with his wand levitated the motionless man toward the arch.

Kyle stood as well and for the first time realized that the arch was a null zone in the Force. He could not feel anything from it at all, which is why he never really studied it before. That, and he was fighting for his life. But now that he looked, he could see a faint shimmer like a curtain suspended from the arch. "What is that?"

"That, Katarn, is a gateway to death." And with that, Bode levitated the body through the curtain; it did not emerge on the other side. The Unspeakable flicked his wand, and the dead cognivore disappeared with a wet _splat._ Meanwhile, Amelia began charming her stump with field spells until she was able to magically repair her prosthetic and slip it on. She paled the color of bone and gasped in pain, but stood up anyway.

"Bode, can you help us any further?"

"Sadly, I cannot," Bode said. "Rookwood was one of mine so I had the authority to act here within the Department. Beyond that, I have no authority."

"What about right and wrong?" Kyle demanded.

Bode looked at Kyle for a long moment before flashing another humorless smile. "Unspeakables know nothing about right or wrong. There is only knowledge. And that is why Unspeakables are not permitted to take part in conflict. I am utterly without morality. I have only the ethics of my office to guide me."

Worse yet, Kyle could sense the man spoke not just the truth as he knew it, but the actual truth. Bode could just as easily have killed Kyle and Amelia as he did Rookwood. He was a monster the light side did not need.

"Understood," Kyle said curtly. "Thank you for your help."

"Indeed. You should leave now. Give Gumboil my regards."

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

Harry left the testing room rubbing his right wrist while popping his neck and concentrating on a Jedi healing cantrip to ease the pain in his back. He'd just finished eight solid hours of testing for his OWL exams. He wasn't surprised to see Remus Lupin waiting outside the room, arms crossed. "Well, how did you do?"

"It was fine," Harry said. And it was—he felt confident he did more than well enough on the various tests. His weakness was likely potions and History of Magic, but he had a hard time believing he'd be making much use of either of those two disciplines. "Any word on the headmaster?"

"Let's go see, shall we?"

Three days had passed since they destroyed Gaunt's ring, and in all that time Harry hadn't seen the professor once. Rumors were flying all around the school that something happened and that Potter was involved. McGonagall insisted during the first dinner without Dumbledore that the headmaster had simply slipped and fallen, and would be right as rain soon enough.

"So he's seeing visitors?"

"He's in his office even now," Remus said. The older man walked slowly, hands in his pockets. "He told me that you saved his life. It was a very brave thing you did."

Harry shrugged. "It was necessary."

"Yes, quite." Not seeming to know what else to say, Lupin said nothing and the two continued toward the headmaster's stairs. When they reached Dumbledore's office, they found the headmaster at his desk plowing through a stack of parchments and envelopes. "Ah, Mr. Potter. Mr. Lupin. I understand you took your OWLs today, Harry."

"Yes, professor," Harry said. He was staring at an intact, seemingly fully functional right hand on the old wizard, albeit one covered in a felt glove. "How is…well, can magic regrow arms, then?"

"This?" Dumbledore wiggled his hand, before removing the glove to reveal a silver hand. "It is an alchemical construct of bio-neutral quicksilver. I would not be immodest to say there are only four wizards in the world capable of producing one that does not kill the user with mercury poisoning. It suffices for now." He slipped his glove back on and sighed. "Remus, thank you. May I have a word with Mr. Potter alone?"

"Of course," Remus said, with a last glance at Harry before he left.

Harry sank down in his chair. "What is it?"

"I have learned that there has been a mass breakout from Azkaban, the wizarding prison. Almost all of Voldemort's Inner Circle have escaped. The Ministry is suppressing this information, which leads me to wonder if Minister Fudge is actually even in charge anymore. I've spoken with the other judges, and they have actually agreed for safety reasons to move the Third Task sooner. So it will be mid-March rather than June. It is my hope that the sooner we can get the task completed, win or lose, the sooner you can resume your life."

"Then it's a good thing I scheduled my NEWTs for February," Harry said dryly.

Dumbledore blinked. "Did you really? Will you be ready?"

"I will. I may only be here a year, but I've seen enough to know that magic would be a valuable skill to have. Perhaps I can find other Jedi who can also practice magic."

"Perhaps indeed," Dumbledore said softly, in open speculation. "In the meantime, I must urge you to take care around Severus. He has been pushing for certain changes in security in the school with the Board of Governors, and with the weight of the Ministry behind him, his arguments are compelling."

"Thank you for the warning; I know to be careful around him."

The old wizard nodded. A moment later, with his left hand, he reached into his desk and placed the broken Gaunt ring on his desk. "While the enchantments on this ring have been broken, the stone itself is quite valuable. And in a very real since, it is here, now, because of you."

Harry stared at it for a moment, trying not to think of the terrifying events he had to live through in obtaining it. "Not to be ungrateful, Professor, but I'm not sure I want it."

"And that is a wise position to take. Nonetheless, I think you should keep it." Dumbledore flicked his wand and deftly conjured a chain that he threaded through the ring. "Wear it around your neck as a reminder to hubris and courage, mine and yours respectively."

With a shrug, Harry cast his own detection charms on it, and finding it magically neutral, he slipped it over his head. "Very well."

"And, since you're here, and I'm tired of paperwork, let's have a lesson, shall we?" Dumbledore said with a smile.

* * *

Thanks for reading.


	25. Baiting Dragons

A/N: Chap 24 review responses are in my forums as normal. Thanks for reading.

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Five: Baiting Dragons**

Jack was nimble, Jack was quick, but Jack still couldn't dodge Kyle Katarn's roundhouse kick

Deep in his meditation, Harry felt Kyle's presence in his mind and embraced it. Quicker than words, he shared everything that had happened with Dumbledore and the ring, while Kyle shared with him their own adventures, and what they had to do next.

Harry described how he could feel the two horcruxes through his scar, while Kyle confirmed the existence of a prophecy and Voldemort's attempts to obtain it. Harry felt his heart skip a beat when he realized just what his master was telling him.

They were going to lay a trap, and both Harry and the prophecy were to be the bait.

 _I don't believe Dumbledore is an evil man,_ Harry told Kyle over the link. _The magic he used to get to the ring was awe-inspiring, and he was at great risk the entire time. He lost his arm in the process. I'm just not sure how much we can trust him._

 _What about Lupin?_

 _Same. Fundamentally a good man bound by deep loyalty to Dumbledore. He and Black owe him for something he did for them when they were students, and it's tied them to him. However, they also feel obligated to protect me because of their loyalty to my father._

Bound as they were by their padawan link and their mutually deep meditation, he felt Kyle's thoughts as if they were his own, nor did his master try to shield him from those ponderings. _With you and the prophecy as bait, there is real risk that Voldemort himself may come. I won't lie—after my fight with Rookwood, I'm no longer certain that I could take an even more powerful wizard. If Voldemort comes, we'll need Dumbledore to delay him long enough for our objective._

Harry considered the matter before nodding. _Partial truths. Just like he's been doing to us the entire time._

 _Agreed. Be careful, Padawan._

With that, the meditation ended and Harry climbed out of bed. Though Kyle was officially deceased, because of Harry's uncertain status within the school, he continued to sleep in the quarters originally assigned to the two of them. After a shower, he donned informal Jedi Padawan attire, pulled on his boots, clipped on his saber, and left the room.

Hermione sat at the Gryffindor table eating breakfast while talking with one of her roommates that Harry had seen but didn't know. Dumbledore was not at the head table but McGonagall was at her traditional spot. Unfortunately, Snape sat at the head table as well, and he followed Harry's every step with a half sneer. Harry ignored it as he sat down beside Hermione, opposite her friend. "Good morning."

She turned, and it felt as if someone had goosed him, the way his heart skipped at her beaming smile. "Good morning!" she said.

He noticed her lips appeared redder than normal, and there was a faint blush on her cheeks. With a start, he realized she was wearing make-up. Not much, and in subtle amounts, but she was definitely wearing make-up. "Harry, have you met my roommate, Faye Dunbar?"

"Not formally," Harry said with a polite nod. "How are you, Faye?"

"Oh, I'm just dandy," the tall, long-faced blonde said with a smirk. "Well, I have Care for Magical creatures first thing, so I'm off. Have fun!" With that she stood and flounced away, pausing only to look over her shoulder at the two of them.

Harry frowned. "What was that about?"

"Oh, nothing," Hermione said a little too quickly. "So, what are your plans today?"

"I'm going to audit seventh year classes today," Harry said. "And then I need to speak to Professor Dumbledore, but it'll likely not be until this afternoon."

"Oh, what about?"

Glancing about, Harry saw Draco Malfoy across the hall starting intently, while at the head table Snape was doing the same. "I'll tell you someplace safe," Harry said. "Would you meet me after lunch on the seventh floor? The same spot as before."

Perhaps remembering their kisses, Hermione's artfully applied blush reddened even more. "Okay, I'll see you there."

With that, she stood and walked toward her first morning class, glancing over her shoulder at him just like Faye did. _Girls_.

He felt bad lying to her, but didn't see any alternative. After eating, he stood and instead of going to any seventh-year classes, he went to the headmaster's office. "I need to speak to Professor Dumbledore on an urgent matter," Harry told the guardian gargoyle.

The stone sculpture nodded before sliding out of the way. Harry proceeded up the stairs of the tower until he reached the by now familiar office of Headmaster Dumbledore. Somehow, he was not surprised to find Remus Lupin with the headmaster.

"Ah, Harry, good morning!" Dumbledore said expansively, as if he were not just recently amputated by his young guest. "How fortuitous. We were discussing…"

"Professor, I would like Mr. Lupin to take me to the Hall of Prophecies."

Professor Dumbledore stared, mouth still open from what he was about to say. Remus tilted his head in confusion. "May I ask why, Harry?" Remus said.

"I want to view the prophecy directly, and then I want to destroy it," Harry said.

"How do you…?"

"I told Mr. Potter and Mr. Katarn years ago, Remus," Dumbledore admitted. "Mr. Katarn rather insisted on it, as you might have imagined if you'd ever met the man. Harry, if you want it destroyed, I can do that myself, as I was the witness to the prophecy."

"With all due respect, Professor, it has to be me."

Remus was about to ask why, but Harry was looking directly at the older wizard and saw the machinations spinning in his head. It was his and Kyle's believe that Dumbledore was an exceedingly intelligent man, and with only a hint could arrive at conclusions rather quickly. "Why the sudden request?" he finally asked.

"My scar hurt when we went on our adventure," Harry said, telling the absolute truth of one thing to avoid another. "I want to know why. And more importantly, I don't want my enemies to know why, especially now that so many of them are free. They're going to go after it, aren't they?"

"I'm sure they've already made attempts," Dumbledore said. "It would be an excellent opportunity for a trap, Mr. Potter, for either side. However, unlike Tom, our side is not ready for such a confrontation for reasons you know very well. You must realize there is some danger involved in your request."

"Sirius can come as well, then," Harry said, acting to compromise by offering what he planned all along.

At the last, Dumbledore finally nodded. "Very well, Harry. This evening after dinner you may be excused from the grounds. Remus and I'm sure Sirius will be glad to take you to the Ministry. For your own safety, though, tell know one. I'll ensure all the portraits in this office are silenced. I cannot stress this enough, Harry. We're not ready for a confrontation. Please, for everyone's sake, tell no one."

"I understand, Professor," Harry said, again stating a perfect truth in lieu of another. He understood the professor very well; he just wasn't going to obey him.

That afternoon, Harry stood near the portrait of Barnabas the Barmy. He saw Hermione crest the last step of the stairs down the hall and smiled to himself. As she approached, he also sensed another presence, even though he could see nothing. Whoever had come was using a different invisibility cloak than the first. Rather than be alarmed, though, he merely nodded. The hidden presence was not unexpected at all.

"Hello, Harry," Hermione said with that breath-taking smile of hers. She was pulling nervously on a strand of hair as she greeted him.

"Hello. Thank you for coming. Can we sit for a moment?" He motioned a stone bench nearby the rarely used corridor, and with a nod she joined him there. She placed her book bag down beside the bench, and the rested her hands on her lap and looked at him expectedly.

The Jedi in him noticed how dilated her eyes were and how her nostrils flared with each breath. He could sense her nervousness and anticipation. The boy in him was overcome by the smell of her perfume, and the way she lightly bit her lower lip as she glanced up at him, and…

…and someone was watching them. It was like fighting off a spell, the effect she had on him. He reached down and took her hand, and leaned close to her as if to whisper sweet nothings in her ear. Instead, he whispered, "Don't respond to what I say. Malfoy is a few feet away, under an invisibility cloak. It's vital that he hear what I'm about to say and report it to Snape."

And then, because the sheer smell and presence of her overwhelmed him, he kissed her jawbone just below her ear. She reared away, upset and confused not just by his words, but by the intimate kiss. "What do you mean?"

Holding her hand, Harry cleared his throat. "There is a prophecy about me and Voldemort. It's at the Department of Mysteries. Tonight, Remus and Sirius are going to take me to see it."

She stared hard at him, lips parted and brows furrowed as she tried to figure out if he was speaking the truth, or a lie for the benefit of their invisible eavesdropper. "Why would…?"

"It was why he went after my parents," Harry said. "And why he tried to kill me. It explains this scar, Hermione. I have to know, and then I have to destroy it to make sure he never does. I just…I suppose I'm worried about what will happen and wanted to tell someone."

"Well, I hope…"

And then Harry was kissing her, audience be damned. It was not a conscious impulse; one moment he was listening to her, and the next they were kissing. It wasn't like the stressful kisses in the Room of Requirement, or even the thrilling, innocent kiss after the Yule Ball. It felt familiar and right and wonderful.

Their lips parted and she stared back at him, wide-eyed. "I don't know when I'll be back," he said, and he tried to push as much meaning into it as he could. "I'm afraid of what I'm going hear. What could happen. I just wanted to tell you… this, I suppose. I hated the idea of coming here, Hermione. I hated being forced away from my old life. But you…you made it worth it. Thank you."

Hermione stammered only a moment before she squeezed his hand. "You're welcome," she said simply. Then, abruptly, she said, "Now tell my about the O.W.L.s! Were they hard? What subjects did you take?"

Harry laughed just because it was just so _Hermione_. And so he talked about the O.W.L.s, describing each subject and answering her questions. And as he did so, he felt the presence of Malfoy fade away completely—the boy was obviously not interested in hearing about exams he didn't even have to take for a year.

"He's gone," he whispered between questions.

Hermione's entire persona changed abruptly. She leaned back from him and took a long, shaking breath. "So, how much of that was for him, and how much of it was the truth?"

"I already knew about the prophecy," Harry said. "Other than that, it's all the truth."

"Then why…"

"We're setting a trap. And I'm the bait."

Hermione stared at him, all smiles gone. "Harry, that's utterly insane. You're fourteen years old, you have no business acting the part of bait!"

"I'm also a Jedi padawan," Harry said. "It has to be this way. But don't worry, I suspect Dumbledore and several others will be on hand as well. I'm not going to be alone, and I won't be expected to do any fighting."

"It's still dangerous, Harry."

He shrugged. "It needs to be done. And I'd rather it be me than you, or Neville, or anyone else for that matter. It is a Jedi's duty to protect the innocent."

During the entire talk, Harry realized abruptly that he'd been holding her hand. As if she could sense his sudden shift in thought, she took looked down at their entwined fingers. "What does this mean, Harry?" she asked softly. She did not look up when she said it.

"I've never really had a girlfriend before," Harry said. "But this is what I always thought it would be like."

"Girlfriend?" She finally looked up, and this time Harry was the one who flushed red.

"Well, I mean, if you…you know…" She saved him from faltering any worse by leaning over and kissing him again.

"Girlfriend sounds perfect," she said with a grin. She sobered quickly, though. "And for your girlfriend, Harry, please be careful."

Harry understood her fear—he felt it too. "I promise."

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

Harry stepped with forced calm through the large fireplace into a wide aisle set between more than a dozen identical fireplaces in the center of the ministry. Remus and Sirius stepped through immediately behind them. Given the late hour, they appeared to be the only ones in the receiving area of the floos.

"This way," Sirius said with the confident air of someone who knew his way around. He led them from the floos toward what looked like a security cordon with one long, wooden desk blocking the floos from a large open hall surrounded by offices beyond.

A security guard sat up at the desk, dropping the thin romance novel he'd been reading in his surprise. "Who're you, then?" the young man asked.

"Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Harry Potter," Sirius said grandly. "I believe the Unspeakables are waiting for us."

The guard stared, open-mouthed, at Harry before scrambling to what looked very much like a soup can on a string. The man spoke into it, announcing the visitors. Whatever its appearance, the magic made the responding voice clear and loud enough for Harry to hear it.

"They are expected. Let them pass."

With a last nervous look, the guard pressed his wand to something under his desk. "You're clear to go, then."

Sirius swept past the wardline, with Harry and Remus close on his heels. "This doesn't feel right," Remus said nervously. "How did Albus get us after-hours access?"

Sirius shrugged. "He knows all the Unspeakables, I suppose."

They reached the lift in an empty corridor and started down in silence. "Still," Sirius continued as if nothing were unusual about a nighttime jaunt to the Ministry of Magic, "never hurts to keep our wands handy."

The lift finally came to a stop and opened onto the grimmest, most depressing hallway Harry had ever seen. The hall was completely covered in polished black tile, floor, walls and ceilings. Occasionally lamps cast a dull glow onto the hall, doing more to highlight how dark everything was than to actually illuminate their steps.

"Charming," Sirius said. "Reminds me of my parent's house. Come on, then."

The three men left the lift and walked down the length of the hall until they reached the same spinning room that Kyle and Amelia passed through just days before. In the center of the room stood a lone, cloaked figure. As they approached, the doors around them began to spin until at the Unpseakable's gesture, the spinning abruptly stopped. The Unspeakable pointed one gloved finger to the door just to Harry's right.

"Thanks, Chap," Sirius said gaily. "Pleasure talking as always. Tootle-loo!"

They stepped through the door indicated, and then came to a stop. "Whoa," Harry whispered.

The Hall of Prophecy had a lot of prophecies. Shelves seemingly rose to impossible heights, one after the other as far as he could see, each holding hundreds of orbs, glowing like stars in a galaxy of shelves.

"How are we supposed to find the right one?" Harry asked. "We could be looking in here for years and not find it."

Remus, though, walked toward one of the shelves before nodding. "This way."

"How do you know?"

"It's alphabetical according to the seer," Lupin said with a shrug. He led them down the shelves, one after the other, dozens and dozens, until after a very long walk they reached row 97. On the fourth shelf up from the ground, Harry saw a label that read: _S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D. Dark Lord and (?) Harry Potter_. He noticed his name had been added with by a different hand, likely after his parents died.

"Does the Professor really have five names?" he asked.

"Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore," Lupin said. "One name for every uncle he had growing up, or so I've heard."

"And his brother?" Harry asked.

"Just Aberforth. I think that's why Abe always felt a little shorted in the deal," Sirius said with a grin. "Well, Harry, you're the only one who can take it off the shelf."

Harry nodded and stepped toward the shelf. As he did so, he felt the first stirrings in the Force of danger. He glanced over his shoulder at his father's friends, neither of whom knew that this was a trap, and that the three of them were the bait. Kyle's plan was typical in that it was direct and brutal.

"Wands out," Harry said, finding himself unwilling to just throw these men away. "We're about to have company."

Before they could ask more, Harry took a breath, stepped the rest of the way and lifted the orb from its cradle.

The attack came like a tornado; a furious storm of spells meant to completely overwhelm the unprepared. He just had enough time to duck and dive for Remus before the shelf that held his orb sparked with a stunning spell. Sirius's body jerked from repeated spells, but almost all of them appeared to be mere stunners. Still, as he flew back, insensate, Harry doubted a mere _enervate_ would wake him.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked his tutor as he stood and cast a shield against a whole bevy of spells.

"Don't worry about me, just get out!" Lupin hissed, obviously in pain, but not life-threateningly so.

That was exactly what Harry wanted to hear. He liked these men enough not to wish them harm, and being in the middle of the mess he was about to unleash was definitely harm. He dove and rolled back behind a shelf just as a figure in black robes and silver mask appeared over Remus. Harry jumped back to his feet and began casting not stunners, but the most powerful blasting curses he could.

The frequency and ferocity of the attack forced the wizard back while Harry ran forward with a burst of Force speed that made him blur in his attacker's eyes. Before the man could fully recover from the magical attack, Harry was there in person, lightsaber flashing.

He did not hesitate, or even think of hesitating. He landed on the man's chest with both feet, his blade flying up into and through the man's chin and mask, and back-flipped to his feet as the Death Eater fell back dead to the floor with a neatly bisected skull.

He spun around and saw a small pocket of Death Eaters gathered together, wands out, staring at him in utter silence. However, as he stood, crouched and ready, one of the figures pushed forward. This one did not bother with a mask, revealing a short figure with a thin, sallow face that may have been attractive once, but was long since turned ugly by hatred and ill-use. Black hair piled high over her head almost like an obnoxious hat.

"What?" she said, shrilly. "What? What is that? Is that my Rudolphus? Rudy, why are you on the ground?"

"He's killed, Trixie," another of the silver-masked figures said. "Potter done him in."

"What, what!?" She blinked and started at Harry, and in that glance he felt a malice, hatred and madness beyond anything he'd ever even considered possible. "Potter killed my Rudolphus? Potter's just a boy, he couldn'a killed my man! Not even Alastor Moody could kill my man."

Another of the figures stepped forward, wand pointed at Harry. "Hand us the Orb, Mr. Potter, and we might very well have mercy on you, despite what you've done."

Harry slipped the orb into his pocket, gripped his wand with his left hand and his saber in his right. "That may be, but what makes you think I'm going to have mercy on any of you?"

With that, Harry pulled on the native power of his lightsaber crystal and disappeared from their vision. They began casting curses in all directions, assuming he'd tried running away, but in fact Harry was running right at them. Right before he reached them, he flashed his blade on and swiped wildly as he somersaulted over the entire group.

He heard a man scream in pain and anguish while another shouted, "There he is!" He never stopped running, though. He let them catch just a glimpse before sinking back into the cloaking properties of his Stygium lightsaber crystal.

Then he waited, and waited. Then grew concerned when Kyle and Amelia didn't lead their people into the fray. Instead, the angry, injured Death Eaters, well over a dozen of them, began casting in all directions to find him.

He thought himself safe until magic once more surprised him. _"Homonem Revelo!"_

The magic struck him like a hammer, breaking his connection with his crystal and forcing him not only into invisibility, but stumbling in the process. Quickly realizing that something had gone wrong with the plan, Harry quickly regained his feet, but by then the Death Eaters had seen him and were swarming toward him in a strange, smoky type of apparition that looked almost as if they were flying.

Flying or not, they were going as fast as he was even with the Force boosting his speed. They were casting spells at him as they flew, forcing him to dodge and weave about, which slowed him even further.

He felt fire burn into his shoulder and a presence looming right on him. Gritting his teeth from the pain, Harry planted a foot on the wall beside him and launched himself sideways against the Death Eater. The wizard grunted in surprise as they both tumbled to the ground. Harry might have had half the man's weight and reach but he was trained in physical combat by Kyle Katarn.

With five short, powerful blows, he had the wizard down and out. He burst back to his feet, curses down the aisle at the coming wizards and witches, and then dove out the door and into the room Kyle had spoken about.

The Death Chamber.

He could feel a quiet darkness in the room—not a sense of menace, but rather just an absence of light and life. Through it all, he heard odd whispers emanating from a black stone arch that rose from the middle of the barely lit room.

He spun about as the Death Eaters arrived, flying about the chamber until they had him completely encircled. This time they did not bother with words. He heard at least three voices shout " _Crucio_ " before his perception of existence caught pure fire. Pain unlike anything he'd ever experienced surged through his whole body.

He was consciously aware of screaming and of the hard ground under his writhing back, but those were distant, unimportant sensations. The only thing that mattered was the horrible, soul-crushing pain.

Suddenly it ended. Harry groaned as he fought to breath. He opened watery eyes, and saw a Death Eater over him, mask removed to review a long, aristocratic face with white blond hair about his shoulders. In his hand, he stared down at a glowing orb in satisfaction.

"Pity, he wanted you alive, you know," the wizard said.

Despite the convulsing muscles which still wracked his body, Harry flicked his saber on and slashed up with shout. His dark purple blade shorn right through the prophecy sphere, and the man's hand at the palm. The wizard stumbled back, staring at the bisected hand in shock, while the prophecy orb fell and shattered against the stone of the floor.

"Kill him!" The aristocratic Death Eater screamed in agony.

A second later, a bolt of orange magic hit the Death Eater in the side of his head and sent him somersaulting across the death chamber.

The Order of the Phoenix had arrived. Late, of course.


	26. Stealing Trixie

A/N: Chap 25 Review Responses are in my forums like normal.

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Six: Stealing Trixie**

The best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry.

Even the worst-laid plans of Kyle Katarn come off without a hitch.

Kyle and Amelia had everything planned down to the minute. Their entire team had doses of polyjuice to maintain their cover and supposed deaths. They had conjured auror robes to make it appear as if they were operating within Ministry guidelines, and they had invisibility cloaks to hold positions within the department of Mysteries to insure Harry's safety.

If should have gone as well as any operation could have. Naturally, it all fell apart before Harry even reached the department.

The first problem was just getting to the Ministry. The twelve of them—Amelia, Kyle, and the ten surviving members of their initial assault team—arrived via floo wearing red auror robes. Because of the timing of Harry's planned visit, they arrived during normal office hours.

Unfortunately, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was just small enough that all the aurors and hitwizards knew each other. It was a risk that Amelia hoped would be ameliorated by the fact that most aurors did not stay in the public parts of the ministry.

At least, not when Amelia was in charge. However, upon their arrival, Amelia was the first to see the many red robes standing around the Ministry at various security points. "Bugger me," she whispered. "This will be a problem," she muttered.

The red-robed team, even in polyjuice, stood out from the crowds of Ministry workers. "We play the hand we have," Kyle said. "Do you know the auror at the security checkpoint?"

"Tobar. Decent man, two kids pre-Hogwarts age," Amelia said.

"Smart?"

"I try to limit the number of idiots in my department," she said archly.

"You let Tonks in," Aura Devereaux pointed out from the guise of a large, hairy man.

"Kiss my arse, Aura," came Tonks' response. She'd not bothered with polyjuice potion, instead using her native power to morph her appearance into that of a tall, flat-chested woman with a sharp, angry face.

"We're deputies," Kyle decided. "Deputy aurors just hired by Scrimgeour."

"Tobar will check to make sure," Amelia noted.

"No he won't." Kyle led the way, wearing the face of a handsome if slightly oafish blonde man in his twenties. Auror Tobar saw them approaching and frowned as he scanned their faces without recognition. "Who are you lot supposed to be?"

Kyle lifted a hand and waved it before the auror's face. "We're Director Scrimgeour's new deputy auror recruits. It's okay to let us in."

Tobar stared blankly. "Right, okay."

He turned and escorted the group of them to the security desk. "These are the director's new recruits. It's okay to let them in."

The young security guard in the drab uniform looked from Tobar to the dozen men and women in robes, and shrugged. "Your call, Auror." He made a note and then released the ward control to allow them to pass.

Once passed the line, Amelia hissed, "Shacklebolt saw us."

"One of Dumbledore's?" Kyle asked.

"Yes. Bugger all, he's following us. Far enough way not to be obvious."

"You noticed him," Robards said.

"I helped trained him," Amelia snapped back. She did not look over her shoulder. "Okay, everyone break up. Find a quiet spot, put on your cloaks and head down to the DoM. Kyle, Tonks, you're with me."

Without a word, their squad broke up, disappearing into the crowds of works finishing their day. To Kyle's disgust, Shacklebolt stayed with them. "We're going to have to do something about him," Kyle said.

Ahead, the waves of leaving Ministry workers were quickly thinning out. The work day was over and people were leaving very quickly. "Boss, Shack's a good man," Tonks hissed quietly.

"I know that," Amelia snapped back, herself frustrated with the situation. "He's also more Albus's man than mine."

"I was in the Order too," Tonks pointed out.

"Yes, but he didn't own your soul yet," Amelia said. "Let's keep going. Get your cloaks out in the lift."

The three of them sidled around one last clump of leaving workers and entered the lift. Kyle saw Shacklebolt giving up all pretense of stealth as he tried to reach them, but it was too late. "Cloaks out," Amelia ordered. Kyle reached into the enlarged pockets of his auror robe and dug around the many other implements he'd brought for the mission until he found his cloak. By the time the lift came to a stop at the black tiled hall leading to the department of mysteries, he, Tonks and Amelia were all invisible.

Unfortunately, that did not keep Alastor Moody from seeing them. The grotesquely scarred old auror stood waiting for them on their intended floor and his wand blurred as he lashed out with almost a dozen stunning spells in the first three seconds of the door opening, some coming even before the door finished. Kyle, even with the Force, was simply not fast enough as the stunning magic slammed into him.

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

Kyle woke to cold water in his face and sputtered. He forced his eyes open despite the heavy grogginess from the stunning spells. A quick glance around showed _all_ the members of their team equally stunned, though most were on the flood of the small, cramped office where they were being held. Amelia, still in her polyjuice form, was on a chair beside him, still unconscious.

Tonks had changed shape again to someone faintly resembling the girl he'd met, but with mousy brown hair, smaller eyes and broader cheeks. Facing him stood the legendary Alastor Moody, flanked by Kingsley Shacklebolt and a thin, middle-aged woman he'd never met.

Dumbledore's pets.

"Right," Moody said to Kyle. He spoke with a maniacal glee. "Two ways we can do this. The fun way, or the less painful way. Frankly, I hope you tell me to go bugger off. It's a lot more fun that way."

"What time is it?" Kyle said, dread building in his heart.

"Oh, you'd like to know, wouldn't you?" Moody said with a cackle. "Make sure you got your little ambush set, wouldn't ya? It is not going to happen. Not on my watch. They're here, and you're not going to get to them!"

Kyle sighed. "Moody, Amelia said she liked to limit the idiots in her department, but Force-damned if you aren't a jackass. We're not the Death Eaters, we're the ones who were going to try and protect Harry. So, you catch us, use all your guards doing it. Who's guarding Harry, Lupin and Black right now?"

For a brief moment, Moody looked doubtful. Then he smiled. "Oy, nice try there. Nice try indeed. Now, who are you?"

Kyle tested his bonds and found them very secure. Then he looked at Shacklebolt. "A few years ago, you apparated into my house. I kicked you in the head and blew you out into the back garden."

Shacklebolt frowned. "That's not…Katarn is dead."

"Because your master let Snape give away Amelia's attack plan to Voldemort. Of course, that's assuming vampires could actually kill me."

"What's he on about, Shack?" Moody demanded.

Kyle turned and jutted his chin at his companion. "Wake Amelia up, and she'll tell you all about it."

Moody blanched and as quick as a snake cast the _enervate_ charm on Amelia. She too sputtered awake before looking around the room. Though she looked nothing like her normal self, her voice was all too familiar. "Alastar Moody, you buggering old jackass, I'm going to kill you! Kyle, where's Potter?"

Kyle stared hard at the paling Order of the Phoenix members. "That's a damned good question."

"It's a trick!" Moody said.

"I don't think so," Shack said. "Amelia, what did you say to me on my first assignment?"

"Remember your training and don't die," came the response.

"Bugger me," Moody snapped. "Bugger the whole buggering world! Vance, get their bindings off. Damn it all, Bones, why didn't you tell me you weren't dead?"

"Because we don't trust Dumbledore with Harry's life," Kyle snapped back. "Snape's betrayal proved Dumbledore's judgment is flawed. Now let me out of this before you just hand my apprentice to the damned Death Eaters!"

Shack and the woman were already enervating the rest. Moody himself banished the bindings from Kyle and Amelia. Bones stood up stiffly and glared at Moody. "When this is over and I'm back in my office, we're going to have words," she said grimly.

"If we live that long, you can have them," Moody snapped right back.

Kyle was about to give them a piece of his mind, via his foot to their heads, when his entire existence narrowed to a thin pinprick of agony. He recognized the agony came from Harry, and from his own brutal experience years ago recognized it. "They've got Harry!" he gasped. "They're using the pain curse on him. You three go now!"

Once the team was enervated, Moody, Shack and the woman, whom Moody called Vance, quickly left the room. "Well, this worked out wonderfully," Gumboil said dryly. The older, morose hit wizard wore the form of an attractive, well-endowed young blonde woman.

"Cloaks on," Amelia said. "We stick to the original plan and just hope it's not too late. Kyle, were you serious?"

"Yes. He's alive but we need to go, now."

"Right. Everyone ready?"

Though still groggy from their capture, the team all gave nods before donning their invisibility cloaks. "So Moody can see through these?" Kyle asked as they left the room.

"He has a charmed eye," Amelia admitted as they tumbled out of the room. "We're still on the ninth floor. This way!"

It was hard to run with any type of order, being invisible, but when they happened upon the battle, Kyle was just as glad for it.

There were a _lot_ of people fighting when they reached the Death Chamber. The Death Eaters were easy enough to recognize, since they all dressed in black with silver masks. The Order Members were fighting valiantly but unfortunately were badly outnumbered. As they arrived, one of the Order members fell with a pained cry, while another looked on the verge of doing so. Moody was personally fighting three Death Eaters himself while Shacklebolt was holding back two.

In the middle of it, Harry Potter was pushing himself up to his knees. Even with the dim lighting Kyle could see that his padawan was flushed and trembling with the effort. He was only dimly aware of the vicious fighting around him, such was his state.

"Kyle, ten o'clock!"

Kyle looked to his left and saw a wild-haired woman screaming as she sent curses everywhere, even at some of her own people. Even as he watched, he saw how her eyes latched madly onto Harry. She'd begun running toward him, wand held in front of him. Harry collapsed back to the ground, convulsing with screams.

Kyle did not hesitate. He darted forward, borne by the Force and the urgency of his padawan's need, and slammed into the much smaller woman in a brutal tackle. Bellatrix Lestrange gave out a startled grunt and cry as he drove her to the ground. Before she could respond, he snapped a punch to her solar plexus that stole her breath, and then placed his palm to her forehead and crushed her consciousness into a deep, profound sleep before she could curse him.

He then slipped his own invisibility cloak over her before crawling to Harry. "I'm here," Kyle said as he cradled the shaking boy.

Spittle ran down Harry's chin and his face was so flushed red it looked as if he were having a heart attack. "You're late," he said through chattering teeth.

"Yeah, sorry," Kyle muttered.

He felt a cloak brush against him and Amelia whisper to him: "We've got her. We're getting her out now."

"Go. I'll get Harry out."

"Kyle, it hurts," Harry whispered weakly.

"Yeah, I know, kid. I'll stay with you." It was a thin promise, given the state of the fighting around him. Kyle ground his teeth and decided it was time to even the score. He reached into the enlarged pockets of his fake auror robe and removed one of his many toys from the enlarged pockets—a Correllian Mark 2 Heavy Repeater.

Based on the Heavy Imperial Repeater from the height of the First Empire, the Corellians took a good technology and made it better. Kyle lifted it from his pocket while the wizards played magical tag around him, and took aim at the now four dark wizards forcing Moody back.

A quick squeeze of the trigger and in a second two hundred slivers of high density metal were fired at near relativistic speed. The bolts tore through one of the wizards, who was dead before he even realized it. The man took a step to curse Moody and then simply dropped. Kyle had already moved onto the second and then the third before the first man hit the ground.

The sound of the repeater was completely alien to the wizards and none of the combatants at first realized what was happening since they were all concentrating on their opponents. The figure kneeling by the incapacitated boy did not rate their immediate attention.

Kyle killed another Death Eater, bringing his count to four, before they noticed. Four other Death Eaters left off their opponent, who staggered back against the wall in obvious pain, and charged Kyle in a conveniently tight formation that allowed Kyle to reveal the secondary weapon of the Heavy Repeater.

The concussion grenade shot out faster than the four wizards could see and exploded the second it touched the leader's chest. The explosion shredded the four dark wizards into a bloody mess that blasted their remains against the floors and walls of the death chamber. Given the nature of the chamber, the sound deafened the other combatants and brought the fighting almost to a standstill.

In the intervening pause, Kyle heard a wizard—he couldn't tell if it was an Order member or a Death Eater—shout, "What the hell was that?"

Kyle stood up with the gun. "This is my little friend from Corellia."

The Dark Wizards responded fairly predictably—by trying to curse him. Kyle's somersaulting days were over, but with the Force as his ally he was still fairly fast. And slugs moving at over a hundred thousand kilometers per second were faster. He rolled and pulled the trigger, and there was no discernable gap in time between his pulling the trigger and a wizard jerking violently as the metal shards made mincemeat of their body.

Unfortunately, magic played havoc with physics. The other Death Eaters cast shields that somehow were able to deflect the projectiles, but Kyle accomplished what he wanted as he slipped the gun into his pocket and removed yet another of his trusty old Byar pistols—he had at least twenty in storage. Repeaters fired projectiles—his pistol fired charged particles. It didn't have the ability to fire as fast, but as he blew through a wizard's magical shield and took the man's head off, the staggered Order was able to regroup and concentrate their efforts on those Dark Wizards who remained.

"He's here!" Harry suddenly shouted. Kyle frowned and looked down at where his Padawan was clutching convulsively at his scar.

He looked up just in time to see a wall of magic slam into him and the Order members, throwing everyone from their feet. Kyle scrambled back up, doing his best to ignore his bruises and the pain as he scrambled to his feet and ran back to cover Harry. As he did so, he saw what had happened.

Voldemort definitely had a body because it was standing in the doorway of the Death Chamber in all of its glory. Well, not so much glory. The creature who stood there looked like a mammalian Duros, with slits for a nose, no hair, and disturbingly red, reptilian eyes. But that was just the physical. In the Force, the wizard was an utter void, as if life itself shied away from the abomination that was his very existence. Kyle had fought his share of Dark Lords over the years, from Sith to Vong to Jacen Solo, and never had he felt anything that felt so _wrong._

The Order of the Phoenix members scrambled desperately away from the dark wizard, while the handful of surviving Death Eaters ran toward him. However, those red eyes shot right to Harry, and on the seemingly ordinary man kneeling over him. "Harry Potter," the wizard said. His voice slithered through the whole chamber, multiplying over itself until it overwhelmed every other sound.

He flowed from one step to another, his wand held daintily to his side in a pale, delicate hand. "Step aside, man. I shall grant young Harry a merciful…"

Kyle shot him.

It was obvious the Dark Lord had been expecting magic, since he almost lazily brought his wand to bear. However, the charged particles of a blaster pistol moved at two-thirds the speed of light. The dark wizard was shot an imperceptible span after Kyle pulled the trigger—far faster than even a powerful wizard could respond to.

Voldemort stared down, incredulously, at the hole in his chest.

"This is the part where you fall down," Kyle noted dryly.

Voldemort did not fall down. Instead, he roared and swept his wand before him. The magic produced by the motion was numbing in its scope. Kyle knelt down and did the only thing he could—he called upon the full power of the Force to protect himself and his charge. Never before did he experience such an illustration that the Force and magic were _not_ the same power as when Voldemort's angry, destructive magic slammed into the Force shield Kyle produced.

The essence of rage met the purity of life in a roiling clash of energies that rejected each other with a resounding bang. The backlash sent Kyle flying back, while Voldemort stumbled and would have fallen if not for one of his supporters. As Kyle picked himself up, he saw the Dark Lord show weakness for the first time, clutching at the wound in his chest.

"Another time, Harry Potter!" he called before sweeping out of the hall. Kyle was sure the gesture was meant to be regal, but with the man's injuries, it turned into another stumble. Just like that, he and his supporters were gone.

Kyle nodded in satisfaction before he too crumbled to his knees, exhausted and hurting over every inch of his polyjuiced body. "Merlin's bones!" someone exclaimed from the opposite entrance of the Death Chamber.

Kyle tiredly looked up and saw Albus Dumbledore standing beside Cornelius Fudge, still dressed in a bathrobe and painfully bright fuschia pajamas. He was staring in utter dejection at a chamber littered with bodies. While most were Death Eaters, not all were.

He patted Harry's hand, as a silent assurance that the boy was not alone, before he stood and tottered unevenly to Moody. The old wizard looked even more battered and scarred than normal, with blood running from his hairline, and from another series of burns and cuts over his arms, face and from his shoulder. His thin hair had puffed out widely from the magic.

He watched Kyle with a look of challenge and admiration. "That was a fine bit of work there," he said. "Never seen anyone but Dumbledore push back Voldemort's magic like that."

"And I'd like to keep doing that work," Kyle said. "If anyone finds out we're alive, we're not going to be able to do it."

Moody's magical eye swung to the action behind them. "And what are you doing?"

Kyle leaned forward. "We're hunting and destroying the man's horcruxes. And I guarantee you we've done more for this war in the past month than Dumbledore has in the past two decades. Think about that, Moody, and then decide. He's in it to stop Voldemort. I'm in it to destroy the bastard, all his followers, and save my apprentice."

With that, Kyle turned and walked stiffly out the same entrance Voldemort himself did just moments before. He hated leaving Harry to the questionable mercies of Dumbledore, but they were accomplishing too much to stop now.

 _It's okay, Kyle._ He felt his padawan's mind in his, weak but filled with resolve. _I understand._

The old Jedi, wearing a young man's body, turned for one last glance. He saw Dumbledore and two other wizards leaning over Potter while the idiot minister wrung his hands in hopeless despair.

With that, he continued down the black tiled hall to the lifts. He was so tired and hurting so thoroughly he didn't even realize someone was holding his hand until he felt the pull at his fingers. Blinking tiredly, he saw Amelia Bones walking beside him. She didn't smile as she gripped his hand. Instead, she stared intently at him in silence for the longest time before she leaned over, took his head in her hands, and kissed him.

"You are one hell of a man, Kyle Katarn," she said softly.

"And I'll thank you to remember that," he said with a wry but tired grin. "Let's get back to the safe house. We can deal with our guest tomorrow—right now I need sleep."

* * *

Thanks for reading.


	27. Making Monsters

A/N: Chap 26 review responses are in my forums as normal. Thanks for reading.

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Seven: Making Monsters**

Monsters check under their bed for Kyle Katarn.

When Harry woke from his healing trance it was to find himself not in the hospital wing, but in his private quarters at Hogwarts. Like many Jedi, he felt groggy and somewhat removed from himself when he woke from the trance, but at the same time he knew it accomplished what he needed.

A quick meditation confirmed that the nerve damage he'd suffered from the combined pain curses of the Death Eaters was healed. What he felt now was not so much pain but more of a stiffness and soreness. He stilled when he heard the sound of parchment rustling and turned to see Hermione sitting next to his bed. He also saw that she had levitated his desk closer to his bed so she could use it to study on as he slept.

He blinked and saw that the door to the room was open as well. "That was Professor McGonagall's condition for my being in here," Hermione said without looking up from her book.

Harry tried to say something, but his throat was so dry it came out as a croak. Hermione turned, and with an oddly blank face, reached for and handed him a tumbler of water. Harry sat up from bed and sipped enough to wet his mouth and throat before drinking any more. He handed it back in silence and regarded Hermione's blank expression.

He did not want to use the Force to gauge her mood—that just seemed like cheating. "You're mad at me," Harry said at least, taking a guess.

"Why would I be mad at you?" she said calmly. "It's not like you used me as a means of setting a trap that ended up putting you in bed unconscious for three days and getting ten people killed. Oh, whatever would I be mad for?"

Harry tried to absorb the idea that he'd been unconscious for three days. It certainly explained the ravening hunger he felt. "I'm really new to all this," he finally said. "It this one of those things where sorry is not enough?"

Hermione suddenly slammed her book shut but didn't say anything. With sore muscles, Harry swung his legs over the edge of his bed and stared down at his bare legs. He appeared to be wearing sleeping shorts and a tight T-shirt, so at least he wasn't completely bare. He then leaned over until he took Hermione's hand. He didn't try to apologize mainly because he had no idea what to say, so instead he simply held her hand.

A single tear rolled down her cheek. With the heel of her free hand she wiped it away. "You wouldn't wake up," she said. "Madam Pomfrey said you were just sleeping, and it seemed to be helping, but they brought you in and you wouldn't wake up."

"I entered a healing trance in Professor Dumbledore's office when we returned," Harry admitted. "They used the _Cruciatus_ on me and I was afraid if I waited there would be permanent nerve damage."

She turned and stared at him, mouth agape. "No," she breathed. And suddenly she was on his lap, arms around his shoulders, weeping.

"Er, I'm better now," Harry mentioned. After three days without moving, she felt rather heavy on his lap, and he rather badly needed to pee.

For some reason, this just made her hold him tighter, to the point his ribs began to ache. On the other hand, she was pressing against him pretty hard, and he could smell the floral fragrance of her hair and neck.

Therefore it was with both relief and disappointment that he saw McGonagall step into the room through the open door and clear her throat loudly. The effect on Hermione was instantaneous—she flew off his lap as if by magic, blushing brilliantly. "Professor McGonagall! Harry's awake!"

"So I see," McGonagall said sharply.

"Er, well…it's good to see you awake, Harry." She quickly gathered her books and papers. "Talk to you later." She then rushed past the professor.

McGonagall watched the entire procedure without saying a word until Hermione was gone. "How are you feeling, Mr. Potter?"

"Weak, but okay," he said. "Hungry."

"I dare say so. Well, please do get dressed. The Headmaster will wish to speak to you, though I will ensure food is available for you at the time as well."

"Thank you!"

After a quick shower and toilet, Harry dressed and walked through the halls of the school. It appeared to be late morning, but classes were in session so he did not pass many students save for a handful of sixth and seventh years. He tried to ignore their intense stares. The gargoyle stepped aside the moment Harry arrived and after riding up the odd, moving spiral staircase he found himself once more in Dumbledore's office.

The Headmaster was not alone; in fact, the office appeared quite crowded. Every person there turned and stared intently at Harry as he entered. He recognized Fudge, with his bowler hat in his hands clutching the brim convulsively. He recognized Moody, but none of the others there.

"Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said from behind his desk. His gloved, magical hand rested inertly on his desk while with his left he was stroking his long beard. "I'm glad to see you are up and about. I'm sure you've noticed our many guests."

"Yes, sir," Harry said neutrally.

The tallest man in the room stepped forward. Heavy brows furrowed together in an unrelenting frown on his long, drawn face. "Mr. Potter, my name is Rufus Scrimgeour. I am the new Minister for Magic."

"Congratulations, sir," Harry said, again keeping his tone flat and his face neutral.

"Yes, indeed," Scrimgeour said. "We have some questions regarding some of the participants in your little scrap. Specifically, who those people were and how they got into the Ministry of Magic."

"I don't know how much help I'll be, Minister, but of course I'll do what I can," Harry said.

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

"That woman is totally off her trolley," Alastor Gumboil said with his normally somber, droll tone. "Utterly insane."

"Is that your professional opinion, Doctor?" Devereaux asked dryly.

"Yes," Gumboil said. "Off her rocker, with a side case of advanced, aggressive dissocial personality disorder."

"Big words." Tonks noted from the kitchen table.

"Only to small minds." Gumboil retorted, not changing tone.

Bellatrix Lestrange was thoroughly wrapped up in a bare bedroom in the safe house, disarmed, searched and otherwise helpless. Gumboil and Proudfoot started working on her before Kyle and Amelia even woke up, the former being a chief interrogator for the hit wizards, and the latter for the auror department.

"What's your take?" Kyle asked Proudfoot.

"The bitch is bloody bonkers," the auror confirmed. "She threatened to skin me alive with her teeth because I'm a halfblood, but she offered to give old Alastor a blow because he's a pure blood."

"Sounds like the plot to an American television programme," Amelia said. "Veritaserum?"

"Yes, and it didn't work."

Amelia frowned. "What?"

"That's what I'm telling you," Gumboil said. "Her insanity is not feigned. She truly believes everything she spouts off as honest truth, even if one statement contradicts the last within seconds. At one point she was telling me she was Morgana reborn. She's aware that her husband was killed, but her anger is not because of the loss of his love, but because he belonged to her. Potter didn't kill her husband, he killed a favored plaything. She's barmy as they come."

"Could you do that mind-trick thing, Kyle?" Amelia asked.

Kyle shook his head. "There are limits. There are Jedi who can walk into your mind without you realizing it. I'm not one of them."

"Er, Boss?" Tonks said. "I might have an idea, but you won't like it."

"Oh?"

"My mum."

Kyle blinked his one eye and looked from face to pondering face. "Okay, what am I missing?"

"Bellatrix Lestrange is Tonks' aunt," Amelia said. "Her mum is Lestrange's sister."

Kyle looked back to the openly nervous Tonks. "Older or younger?"

"Younger. Aunt Bellatrix was the oldest daughter. My mum was the second child. Narcissa Malfoy was the youngest."

"Hmm, and you're an auror."

"Mum was disowned because she married a muggleborn," Tonks said with a shrug.

Kyle, though, merely nodded. "Good for her. What do you think, Amelia?"

Bones regarded Tonks carefully. "Are you offering because you think it will help, or because you want to reassure her you're still alive?"

"Yes," Tonks said simply.

Kyle's eyes narrowed. "Are you an only child?"

The young auror nodded mutely. Kyle turned to Amelia and shrugged. "I'd let her go, but it's your call."

"Right," Amelia said. "Go get your mum. Do not let her know where we are."

Tonks almost melted with relief as her hair spiked bright pink. "Be right back!" She apparated right from the house.

Gumboil looked the two. "You old softies," he accused.

"Sue us," Amelia snapped back. "Now, what do we have to eat around here?"

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

Tonks returned two hours later with a woman who at first glance could have been Bellatrix Lestrange's twin. However, at second glance Kyle noticed her hair was a lighter shade of brown than Belleatrix's near black locks, and her eyes were wider with a much kinder look. She did not have the frown and stress lines that marred Bellatrix's features.

Her eyes and nose, however, were red from recent tears. The moment she appeared she scanned the room until she saw Amelia Bones. She pulled away from her daughter, crossed the room with single-minded determination, and then delivered to the former director of the DMLE a resounding slap to the face.

"That's for letting me believe my only child was dead!" Andromeda Tonks hissed, enraged. She then spun to where Kyle had risen at the perceived threat, and to his confusion, hugged him. "And this is for saving her life," the woman said as she sobbed once into his shoulder.

"And hello to you too, 'Dromeda," Amelia said dryly while rubbing her cheek.

Andromeda Tonks spun back around and covered her mouth. "I thought she was…I thought…"

This time, it was Amelia who hugged the distraught mother. "I know, 'Dromeda. If there were any other way, I would have taken it. It was a close thing."

Andromeda took a deep breath to gather her wits. "So I heard," she said as she stepped away and regarded Amelia's leg. She flicked her wand and winced. "You did that yourself."

"It's not like I have access to a healer," Amelia said.

"Well, you do now. I brought my potions kit. But first, Dora tells me you have me dear sister captive. Why?"

"Voldemort made soul jars," Kyle said succinctly. "He can't die until we destroy them all, and we believe she may know what and where they are."

Andromeda paled as if shot but said nothing as she looked around the room. She obviously recognized many of her daughter's co-workers. Finally, back to Amelia, she said, "You can destroy him?"

"We're going to give it a damned good try."

"So it _was_ you at the Ministry!" the elder Tonks said. "The papers were filled with articles about the mysterious wizard who fought the Dark Lord and forced him to flee!"

"We do what we can," Kyle said with a humble shrug. "Will you help us?"

Andromeda nodded. "You're going to have to give me a few moments, though. There's only one way to get through to Trixie and it is not very pleasant."

With that, she walked toward the hall until she found the first of the house's two washrooms. The younger Tonks blushed. "Sorry 'bout that slap, Boss."

Amelia shrugged. "'Dromeda and I were at Hogwarts together, though she was a few years behind me. I assure you, I would have been surprised had she not slapped me. Even if she's one of the good ones, she's still very much a Black."

When Andromeda came out Kyle wondered if she were a metamorphmagus like her daughter, since she appeared much, much different. Her hair was darker and drawn up in a severe, unattractive bun. She's switched out of her light trousers and blouse and now wore a long, black dress cinched at the waist with a wide, lime-green belt. She wore equally eye-stabbing lime-green shoes. She'd applied some make up that, rather than beautify her face, made it instead pale and unattractive.

"That's unsettling," Amelia said. "You look just like Druella Black."

"Exactly," Andromeda said with a drawn frown. "You're going to hear some terrible things in there. I will hate myself for this, but I swore I would do anything I could to protect my daughter and husband."

With that, she stepped into the room that housed her sister.

The room was not silenced, and in seconds they heard Andromeda yelling in a high-pitched, nasal voice. "Bellatrix Druella Black, what are you doing, you sniveling, useless little whore!"

Kyle's eye widened. But when he heard the response, he felt his stomach drop.

"Nothing, Mummy, I promise! I'll be good, don't sic Papa on me!"

The tirade that followed made the hair on Kyle's neck stand on end. Tonks stood and said, "Mum's going to need a drink after that."

"Bloody hell, woman, we all will," Gumboil said.

Two harrowing hours later, Andromeda Tonks quietly stepped out of the room and walked back to the bathroom, her face a stony mask. When she emerged a few minutes later, looking exactly as she did when she first arrived, she walked silently to the table in the kitchen where Tonks had a shot of firewhiskey waiting for her.

She downed it in a single gulp, and then poured a second and third. Amelia sat down next to her without saying a word; without touching her. The other members of them team quietly stood, and through mutual assent, left the room until only Kyle, Amelia and Tonks remained with the woman.

"It is difficult to put in words how very, very much I despise my mother," Andromeda whispered. "Bellatrix was beautiful, brave and smart. She protected Cissy and I both from the worst of that old hag's madness and our father's abuse, until she became just as mad as Mum." She looked up at Kyle with tears in her eyes. "Very few monsters are born, Mr. Katarn. Most, I've found, are made."

"I know," Kyle said with a somber nod. "I've seen good people twisted into monsters. I'm sorry."

Andromeda poured a fourth tumbler, but sipped it rather than drowned it. "She doesn't know what they are, but she knows the Dark Lord has created several items that are important to him. Hufflepuff's cup, the diadem of Ravenclaw, a locket and ring from Slytherin, a diary, and just recently a snake, Nagini. The snake has been charmed to be almost immortal. She has the cup in her Gringott's vault, and Cissy has the diary. The snake never leaves Voldemort's side. She doesn't know where the rest are."

"Gringotts," Amelia whispered, horrified. "We can't break in there, not without risking a war after the fact."

Andromeda sighed. "And I can't get you in. It was a Lestrange Vault that she is keyed into by marriage. My relationship with her does nothing in that regard. And if you're thinking it, Amelia, I can tell you the _Imperius_ won't work on her. That much I can tell you. Father used to _Imperius_ us all the time to do…whatever he wanted to do with us. By the time we were in our teens, we could all resist it without even trying. Of course, by that time we were old enough that he wasn't interested in us anymore."

"We'll think of something," Kyle said, purposely trying not to think of the horror implicit in the woman's words.

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

It was lunch time when Scrimgeour and the Wizengamot committee members let Harry go. He felt emotionally drained, and although McGonagall kept her word and a tray of biscuits and cucumber sandwiches did arrive, Harry never had opportunity to eat it. So he was starved as well.

He realized early on that rather than be grateful for revealing Voldemort's presence, some of the Wizengamot members were furious that Harry injured or killed some of the Death Eaters, as did Kyle in his disguise. The questions were pointed and furious, demanding for instance who Potter thought he was to pass judgment on his fellow wizards.

"I was not passing any judgment, sir. I was defending my life against those trying to kill me and those close to me."

"How do you know they were trying to kill you?" one angry man with a bushy beard and a gleamingly bald head demanded.

"I made my assumption that they were trying to kill me based on their repeated attempts to kill me," Harry said, trying his hardest to keep the sarcasm from his voice.

"What about that weapon of yours!" another Wizengamot member said. "You have no business with a weapon like that. You need to turn it over to the Ministry immediately!"

"I'm sorry sir, but I am a member of the Jedi Order and am entitled by law and tradition to carry my lightsaber. I will not surrender it and will defend myself from any attempt to take it without my permission."

That set off another flurry of angry accusations and conversations. Harry was aware that Scrimgeour glowered at him throughout the entire "interview". Finally, after the Wizengamot members exhausted themselves with hateful accusations, the new Minister of Magic said, "Who was that man who hurt the Dark Lord, Mr. Potter?"

"I did not recognize the man, Minister," Harry said truthfully.

"How did he injure He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?" Scrimgeour asked.

"It appeared to be a gun, Minister."

One of the Wizengamor members scoffed. "No mere Muggle weapon could hurt a wizard as powerful as the Dark Lord!"

"The evidence would suggest otherwise, Sibelius," Dumbledore said, speaking for the first time since the debacle began. "Gentleman, I believe Mr. Potter has answered all of your questions with remarkable patience. Unless you wish to charge him, in which case you will have a public relations nightmare on your hands, I suggest we adjourn for the day."

"I do have a question for you, Minister," Harry said before anyone could break the meeting up. "Amelia Bones, Kyle Katarn and several aurors went on a mission to try and apprehend Voldemort before he even had a body. Severus Snape informed Voldemort not just of the attack, but specific details on when and where. And now he is the Ministry-appointed inquisitor in this school. Do you openly support Voldemort and his Death Eaters by allowing a Death Eater to walk all over this school?"

Scrimgeour stiffened as if struck before turning and glaring at Fudge, who seemed to clutch his hat tighter as he shrank in on himself. "Luc…Mr. Malfoy suggested it would be a good way to curtail…" the former Minister began.

Scrimgeour snorted. "That, Mr. Potter, is something we agree on. I will see to it personally."

One by one they left, until only Dumbledore and Harry remained. The old man sat nothing, leaning back in his chair and studying Harry with sparkling blue eyes. "So things at the moment are less forlorn than once appeared," he said.

"My master says it's always important to have hope."

"Somehow, that does not sound like Master Katarn."

Harry shrugged.

"I understand things became rather dicey at the Ministry. You suffered a great deal, Mr. Potter. Unnecessarily so. When people work at odds, it makes the task at hand all the more difficult."

"I suppose it is a matter of trust, Professor."

"Indeed. Well, off with you, then."

And so Harry found his freedom. The moment he emerged from Dumbledore's tower, he made a bee-line for the Great Hall, where even from across the castle he could smell food. He just barely passed the threshold when he was accosted by none other than Draco Malfoy.

The boy looked furious, with a red-flushed face and even a drop of spittle on his lip. He was flanked by two large classmates and behind him were a few other Slytherin students of various years. Every single one of them had their wands out.

From the head table, Professor McGonagall was having a conversation with the Beauxbaton's headmistress when she saw what was about to happen. "Students, sit down!" she cried out in horror.

Harry, though, saw in an instant that those approaching were lost in a rage. Malfoy cast first, but the others quickly followed suit to the screamed cries of the other students. It was such a blatant display of rule-breaking that some students simply didn't know what to do. Worst yet, Harry knew with absolute certainty that he could not kill them. To do so would play right into his enemy's hands.

And so Harry responded not with his wand or lightsaber, but with his hands and feet. He dove forward under the fusillade of spells, landed in a roll that brought his feet around in position to kick Malfoy hard in the groin. The boy dropped his wand and screamed as he bent over, which put his face in an excellent position to receive Harry's foot again. However, before the others could curse him on the ground, Harry had already extended his legs to carry his whole body upright again.

He took the two bigger kids out first with a series of carefully placed jabs that would incapacitate without killing, and then snapped their wands as they fell. He spun inside the reach of a third, elbowed his forehead, snapped his knee with a kick and his wand arm with a scissoring of his hands, and spun to the next.

By the time McGonagall, Maxime and Professor Sprout arrived, all the Slytherins were on the floor moaning in pain while their snapped wands lay in a pile beside them. From that mass, Draco screamed, "You're dead, Potter! You're dead! You hurt my father! You're dead!"

McGonagall came up short on the scene shocked by the sheer violence of it. "Oh Merlin," she moaned. "I should have seen this coming. All those students either lost their fathers, or saw them thrown in Azkaban last night. I should have known!"

"It was Head of Slytherin's house to do that, Minerva." Sprout said. "And with Severus on his little crusade…"

"Minister Scrimgeour wishes to talk to Snape about his activities as a Death Eater," Harry said. "Please let him know if you see him. Now, I haven't eaten in days. I'm going to get something to eat."

Harry felt every pair of eyes follow him as he left the stunned professors and injured students and walked to the Gryffindor table. Hermione was watching him intently like the rest, but unlike the others he didn't see fear on her face, just worry. She scooted over to make room for him and he sat gratefully.

Without a word, she helped him gather a plate of food, while near the door other professors were levitating away the injured students. It was Seamus Finnigan who finally said, "Blimey, 'Arry, how'd you do all that?"

Harry, having already taken a large bite, simply met the boy's wondrous stare as he chewed before saying, "Magic."

He then kept eating.


	28. Dragon Food

A/N: Chap 27 review responses are in my forum. I also have asked for feed back if readers believe this story's rating should be increased to M. Please see the forum post for details.

Thanks for reading.

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Eight: Dragon Food**

There is no theory of evolution...just a list of creatures Kyle Katarn lets live.

When Kyle Katarn stepped into the room where they were holding Bellatrix Lestrange, he noticed immediately that everything had been stripped from the room. There were no articles of furniture, nor any fixtures of any kind. The light came from a pair of floating blue belle flames, since there were neither windows nor closets.

During the interrogation with Andromeda Tonks, Bellatrix's restraints had been removed. She now lay on her side in the far corner of her room, twisting her hair and muttering in a constant stream of non-sensible sound.

She did not bother looking up from her hair as Kyle sat down cross-legged in the middle of the room. His knees creaked ominously as he settled down and he felt his feet immediately start to go numb from bad circulation, but that was easily remedied as he sank deeply into a Jedi meditation.

When Bellatrix finally attacked him, screaming like a banshee, he was so thoroughly one with the Force that he was able to stop her mid-step without moving. Bellatrix screamed and raged, kicking and punching, as he gripped her with his power and forced her into a sitting position two feet away.

Toward the end of his life, Luke Skywalker had so mastered the Force that he could sculpt even the most powerful Force user's mind to see and hear whatever he wanted. His action against Jacen Solo in the civil war was ample evidence of his power. Kyle was never as powerful as Luke, but while Luke was the most determined man Kyle had ever met, Luke himself admitted Kyle was the most stubborn.

And so it was not with an abundance of skill or power that Kyle attacked Bellatrix Lestrange's mind, it was an overwhelming amount of sheer stubborn _will_. And what he saw in her broken, twisted mind sickened him. For a moment he wished he had arrived on Earth decades earlier, so that he could deliver the Black Sisters from their hell just as he delivered Harry from his. For as bad as Harry had it, the Sisters Black had it a thousand times worse.

If Cygnus and Druella Black had not already died, Kyle would have killed them both for what they did in creating the monster that was Bellatrix Lestrange. He fought back tears as he was forced to relive Bellatrix's memories of sacrificing her very soul to protect her younger siblings.

He then saw how Voldemort recruited her and made her such a fanatically loyal follower. He did not torture her, nor harm her. He made her husband and his brother stop treating her the same way her father did. He stopped the daily abuse that was enacted against her when she was still in her late teens, and for that small kindness, she gave him everything she was.

 _No wonder she didn't care about her husband as anything more than her property._

Once he had the shape and motivations of her broken mind, he began the more arduous task. He could not reshape it. There was no repairing the damage done by a lifetime of abuse. Instead, he began to plant a memory and a motivation within it.

In Bellatrix's mind, she saw her beloved master standing in front of her, still beautiful as he was when he first recruited her. He had such luscious black hair, and those dark eyes caressed her soul, just as he caressed her face. Whenever he touched her, she shuddered with ecstasy. He never did any more than touch or caress her and nothing more than that was ever needed.

 _Fetch me the cup, my dearest Bella_ , the false memory whispered in her mind. _Do whatever you have to do to bring me my cup. Take the Muggle hostage. He has your wand. Use it to make him help you!_

Kyle caused the memory to play through her mind again and again, reinforcing her motivation until it dominated her mind. She snatched at something in the air, convinced it was her wand, and suddenly lunged forward. This time, Kyle made no effort to stop her as she swung around with her small arm around his neck.

"Let me out, or I'll curse you!" she hissed.

"Okay, fine," Kyle said calmly.

He stood, and because he had a head and a half on her, she had no choice but to let go of her neck and stand two feet behind. She held out her hand as if it had a wand. "Open the door!" she screamed. "Do it now!"

Kyle wordlessly opened the door and stepped into a room filled with the team of aurors and hitwizards he had come to know and respect over the past weeks. Their number made Bellatrix's eyes bulge. "Nobody move or I'll curse him!" she screamed wildly.

They all stared at her empty hand in confusion.

"She has a wand pointed at me," Kyle said with a meaningful look around him. "Let's be calm about this."

"You're going to help me!" Bellatrix said, screaming still. "You're going to help me get something, and if you don't, I'll curse you!"

"If you go out, you'll need something to drink," Amelia said with the same purposeful calm as Kyle. She slowly stepped to the kitchen and removed a flask of polyjuice potion already mixed with hair. "Take this."

"Don't give him anything!" Bellatrix screeched.

"If I go out like this, they'll arrest us both," Kyle said. "But with this, I can help you."

He pushed the Force through the suggestion, and though Bellatrix may have been naturally immune to the _Imperius_ curse, she had no defense against the Force. "Then take it, you fool!" she cried.

Kyle accepted the flask, and then led the trembling, muttering Bellatrix from the house. As they walked through, Tonks took a step too close. Bellatrix spun and screamed, " _Avada Kedavra._ "

Kyle took the opportunity to quietly summon Bellatrix's real wand to his hand where he slipped it into his jacket. In the meantime, his respect for the young auror went up a great deal when Tonks threw herself bodily back into the arms of a confused Gawain Robards and pretended to be dead.

"The same for anyone else who moves!" Bellatrix screamed with her phantom wand. She grabbed Kyle's jacket and pushed him out of the house and beyond the wards. He spun to face her, in the process passing her wand to her now that she no longer presented a threat to the others.

"I'll help you," he said. He sipped the polyjuice potion and felt his features changing. Bellatrix, not even noticing the switch from a phantom wand to her real one, simply grabbed him and apparated them directly to Diagon Alley.

Kyle thanked the Force they arrived near the bank. And though it was an incredibly irresponsible thing to do, at that moment he was also thankful that the Ministry had covered up the Azkaban breakout. Otherwise, people would be running in fear.

As it was, Kyle walked with forced calm, his face blank, while Bellatrix walked behind him with her wand to his back up the steps of the bank. The goblin guards watched intently but did nothing to impede them. They continued down the open customer service area toward one of the many elevated desks that allowed the otherwise diminutive goblins to look down on the wizards.

It was a testament to just how little the goblins cared about wizards in general that they made her and Kyle wait in line like any other customer. The other witches and wizards looked nervously at the obviously disturbed woman. More than a few began whispering, obviously recognizing her. The curse of a small community, Kyle thought.

Once word began to spread, those in front of them melted away, fleeing the bank for the lives, until at last she pushed Kyle forward. "I demand access to my vault," she hissed.

"Identification," the goblin said without bothering to look up from his ledger.

Pushing Kyle to the side, Bellatrix touched her wand to the ledger book the little creature was writing in. When she stepped back, the goblin finally looked up at her. "My condolences on the death of your husband, Madam Lastrange," he said without a hint of emotion. "You, of course, have inherited everything. Clawrend will show you to your vault."

A goblin that did not come up to even Bellatrix's waist stepped forward from beside the elevated desk, clad in miniature trousers, a silk shirt and crimson vest. "This way," the creature said in a deep, basso voice completely at odds with its size.

Kyle followed the goblin placidly with Bellatrix's wand pointed at his back the whole time. It amazed him how little the goblins seemed to care. Then again, from what he'd read if all wizards rose up and committed suicide, the creatures would dance on their bodies.

The ride in the cart was unpleasant to say the least. For Kyle it was not so much the motion he objected to as the fact he wasn't directing it. Still, he did look around in interest at the impossibly large caverns under the bank that housed the goblin cities. In many ways, it reminded him of the subterranean cities of the Selonians in the Correllian System. He had no doubt, however, that the Goblins were employing their own unique magic to expand the space to accommodate their own population centers.

Soon they left the huge, open cavern behind and the odd mine cart rolled into a darker, danker tunnel that screamed of age. The vault doors he saw were each set inside large courtyards, and within each courtyard, he saw a dragon, five in all. The creatures were several times larger than what Harry faced in his first task, but looked pale and tired. It was to the third such courtyard that they stopped.

As they climbed out, Kyle saw that rather than just one vault, the courtyard held ten separate vaults, all within range of the giant creature's mouth. It raised its head and turned white, blind eyes to them, only to moan and shy away in pain when the goblin began shaking a loud, sharp rattle.

"Up, up!" Bellatrix ordered, motioning with her wand. Kyle did as instructed, watching curiously as the goblin continued to shake the rattle. It was obvious that the dragon had been thoroughly conditioned.

Once to the vault, Bellatrix tapped her wand to the locks. The magic somehow recognized her and began to open, lock after lock with loud, metallic _clangs_. Finally, the door opened to reveal an expanded space brimming with literal tons of gold, both in the form of coins and ingots, jewelry and weaponry. The sheer wealth, even in galactic terms, was stunning. Kyle couldn't help but wonder how much of it was actually hers and how much she was safeguarding for her master.

She swept her wand in front of her, speaking in the rapid-fire pseudo-Latin the magicals used for their spell-casting, until the air shimmered. Without further production, she wove her way through the piles of gold and artifacts until she disappeared in back. Moments later, she returned with an ornately carved cup decorated with badgers. In the Force, Kyle could feel a daunting, numbing darkness emanating from the artifact.

As she cradled it in her arms like a newborn baby, Kyle felt something else in the Force too. It felt almost like a distant breeze; a whisper audible only in the mind. Bellatrix continued to walk toward him but her eyes became unfocused and distant. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Kyle realized that the horcrux within the cup was overriding his suggestive implant in Bellatrix's brain. Before she left the threshold of the vault, she came to a stop and stared at Kyle. " _You!_ " She hissed suddenly as she finally broke free of Kyle's implanted suggestion. "You foul, Muggle liar!"

She raised her wand, a curse on her lips. Kyle, remembering the promise he made to this madwoman's sister, left his weapons in their enchanted pockets and instead used the Force to rip the wand from her hand even as she screamed the killing curse. Without her focus, her magic had no way of expressing itself and so nothing happened.

Kyle caught the wand and snapped it. She stumbled as if he'd struck her, eyes bulging and mouth agape. For a moment she did not look like a madwoman, but rather a vulnerable, young woman of exquisite beauty and potential. Then she screamed—a gut-wrenching, horrified, raging scream that rang through the courtyard and momentarily startled the goblin with the clanker.

The dragon, held back by a lifetime of abuse and conditioning, reacted like any wild animal would against its torturer. It snapped its long snout forward and with a single gulp ate the goblin whole. The diminutive creature did not even make a sound as it died.

Although, even if it had, Kyle would not have heard it over Bellatrix's screams. The dragon might have been conditioned to flee from clankers but screaming only irritated. The great monster rose on its hind legs, stretching its 40-meter length until its automobile-sized head rose above the railing. It could not see, Kyle could tell that just from its whitened eyes, but the creature could smell and hear.

Still Bellatrix stood screaming, clutching the cup to her breasts. "Lestrange, shut up or you're going to die!" Kyle tried to shout over her screaming. He reached out in the Force to pull her to safety but at the same time he felt a surge of imminent danger. Without any other choice, Kyle dove away from the front of the vault just as the angered, confused dragon unleashed a belly-full of the hottest fire Kyle had ever seen in nature.

The dragon-fire spewed out like napalm from a flame thrower, following the stream of magical accelerants the monster produced in its oversized body. Kyle, stumbling back to his feet, stared as the flame struck the still-screaming Bellatrix head on. It reminded him of his days as a stormtrooper cadet, when during an exercise one of the other cadets got too close to a turbolaser cannon. The blast of energy vaporized his body so quick that boots remained on the ground with charred bone sticking out.

So it was with the dragon-fire. It struck the broken woman directly in the center of her body where she held the cup, and he could see the heat of the magical fire vaporizing skin, muscle and bone. Her scream was lost in the roar of the dragon's anger and flame.

Suddenly the horcrux within the cup, assaulted by forces not even its magic could protect it from, exploded violently. A wall of concussive force hit Kyle like a hammer and sent him flying over the rail down into the courtyard. He had only moments to use the Force in an attempt to gain some control before he slammed hard in the ground. He actually heard his knee snap before he felt the pain of it but knew he did not have time to sit. With a grunt at the pain he picked himself up and continued to limp away from the dragon, but there was no need.

A heavy thump made him look over his shoulder, and as he did he realized the danger was passed. The dragon's shattered head lay a few feet away from him. The magical explosion had blasted its mandible off completely and pulverized its brain. Over it, dark, foul smoke billowed out from the still open vault of Bellatrix Lestrange.

Somehow, he wasn't surprised when two carts of angry, armed goblins arrived. They spilled out with spears and machine guns to quickly secure the courtyard. One of them, dressed in a pin-stripe suit that made him look as if Master Yoda were going to a tuxedo formal, stepped to where Kyle had let himself sink to the ground.

"What have you done here, human?"

Kyle made a vague motion to the vault. "Bellatrix Lestrange took me captive and made me help her get something from her vault. The moment she had it, she started screaming and it made the dragon go crazy. It ate your goblin and then blasted her with fire. Whatever she held, it blew up."

Kyle could only imagine what the goblin saw—he knew his face and clothes showed evidence of the explosion because he could _feel_ it, almost on every inch of his body. With an imperious motion made humorous by his short stature, the goblin leader sent several of his heavily armed goblins running up the stairs to the Lestrange vault. One of them returned moments later with a black, pointed witch's shoe and a broken, blackened cup.

The goblin leader took what remained of the cup and studied it closely. Kyle wondered just what the goblins could sense of magic—could this creature tell the evil that was once housed in it?

Evidently, he could. "This was a dark artifact," he declared. "Filled with the blackest wizard magic."

"Well, Lestrange wasn't exactly the good witch of the North now, was she?" Kyle said dryly.

"Nor are you any mere wizard, Kyle Katarn," the Goblin said.

Evidently Goblins could sense more than wizards knew. "I'll tell you what," Kyle finally said. "We can make a deal. I won't tell Voldemort that a goblin dragon killed his favorite lieutenant and destroyed one of his most valued artifacts if you don't tell him I was here. Sound like a plan?"

Around the elder goblin, the little warriors hissed and muttered at each other in Gobbledygook. "Why don't I just kill you and blame it all on you?"

Kyle snorted, and then with the Force levitated himself back to his feet despite his knee. The goblins backed away and then backed away almost to the body of the dragon when they saw the Force lighting playing about his hands. "Not even Voldemort could kill me," Kyle said calmly as he looked at the creatures. "You could try. You might even succeed. But many of you will die in the process. But this way—Lestrange's vault stands open. You have the means to recoup your losses for the damage done so long as her next of kin gets the rest. More importantly, all of you get to live."

"So confident, are you?" the goblin blustered.

In that instant, looking at the goblin elder, Kyle realized the creature was desperately looking for a way to back out while maintaining both its pride and position within the Goblin ranks. Honor dictated it had to act, but he knew it did not want to because he was afraid. With an outthrust of his arm and a rush of Force energy, Kyle gave him the path he was looking for.

The entire, twenty-ton dragon floated off the ground at the direction of his out-thrust hand until it levitated directly over the gaping, stunned goblins. "I'm that confident," Kyle said. "I am Kyle Katarn, General, Jedi Master and Warrior. While I would prefer that we part peacefully, know that if you provoke me, I will destroy not just you, but the whole of your clan using weapons you cannot even imagine. So choose, honored opponent. A pointless death followed by the destruction of your clan, or a profitable peace and life."

The elder made a show of bearing sharp, tiny canines and growling. "You leave me little choice, Kyle Katarn. We will accept your terms."

With a nod, Kyle let the dragon sink back to the ground where he lifted it. It took all his effort not to collapse in exhaustion. "You are wise, honored elder," he said with a nod, forcing as much respect into his inflection as his exhausted state allowed.

"And you would be wise to leave this bank and not return," the elder said threateningly.

It was a part of the performance, Kyle knew. He gave the creature one more nod and walked back to his original cart. He could feel his knee grinding dangerously as he went, but he could not show any weakness or the goblins would have no choice but to attack. He climbed in, and without looking back let the enchanted cart fly carry back to the surface.

No goblins blocked his way as he climbed out. He was still in polyjuice. The whole adventure had only taken forty minutes, if even that much. Though he did not recognize her because of her own disguise, he could sense Amelia Bones's Force presence looking at him from behind a young woman's face in the far corner of the bank.

He continued walking, straight-backed, until he reached her. Without hesitation, her borrowed face smiled sadly at him as she took his hand. They walked out of the bank like that, hand-in-hand.

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

Andromeda Tonks said nothing as Kyle spoke. Her face remained blank and her body perfectly still as the two sat in the kitchen of the hideaway. He spoke quietly and calmly, making no effort to gloss over his role in what happened to her sister. When he was done, she removed her wand and still without speaking healed his broken knee before leaving the house.

The rest of their team watched her go in silence. After the door closed behind her and they heard her _pop_ of disapparation, Tonks said, "Boss?"

"Go," Amelia said with a gentle nod. "She needs you."

Tonks followed.

In the aftermath, the rest of the team slowly gathered around the table where Kyle sat. Amelia sat in Andromeda's seat, facing him. "Only one left—Nagini."

"Aye, that won't be a problem at all, will it?" Myra Pilliwick said as she leaned back in back in the seat. "Just kill the Dark Lord's ruddy snake. Easy peasey."

Kyle nodded thoughtfully, but never looked away from Amelia's square look. He knew what she was thinking as if she were speaking it aloud.

 _Soon._

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

Harry stood near the main door of Hogwarts, arms crossed, as a pair of aurors escorted Severus Snape from Hogwarts.

He was surrounded by every student of Hogwarts outside of Slytherin, and every single one of them was clapping, cheering and even shouting at the hated Professor as he was escorted out. Harry, though, said nothing and watched.

Snape walked with a straight back, his expression one of bored disdain. He slowed only when he saw Harry. The disdain morphed into a sneer. "Come to see me off, Potter? Rest assured, this is not the last you'll see of me." He almost spat the first letter of Harry's name.

Forcing himself to remain calm, Harry merely nodded. "I know, Mr. Snape. We will see each other again."

For the briefest flicker, Harry saw a smidgeon of doubt in the other man's face. But the aurors had waited long enough and continued the long walk to the ward line. He continued to walk with his back straight, as if the mass of students were cheering for him, rather than for his arrest. He maintained the proud posture all the way across the causeway until they reached the wardline and disappeared.

Harry caught a glimpse of Hermione standing by her roommates and several other girls and nodded, but he had an appointment to keep. Another lesson with the headmaster. He made his way through the castle quickly, eager to learn more from the hand-written book the headmaster had given him.

When he reached the old wizard's office, he found Dumbledore waiting patiently while rubbing his conjured arm. "Ahh, Mr. Potter. Watching Severus's departure?"

"You don't sound too concerned."

Dumbledore frowned. "I will not lie and say he was a good man once upon a time. And yet, your dear mother once saw something good within him, else they would not have been such close friends when they came to Hogwarts."

Harry raised a brow. "My mother was a friend of his?"

"Very few people are born evil, Harry," Dumbledore said gently. "In fact, I can only think of one person who could be described as a bad seed. Now, before we begin, given our recent discussion of trust, I realized this morning I was remiss in returning some stolen property to you."

"What do you mean?"

Dumbledore reached into his desk and removed a wad of clothing. Based on his run-ins with Malfoy, he recognized it immediately. "An invisibility cloak?"

"Yes. While I can't share the particulars of how, since I do not know them myself, Mr. Malfoy managed to obtain your father's old Invisibility Cloak from my office and used it against you. Since then, I have kept it safe, but forgot to return it until now."

"I have my own means of turning invisible."

"Ah, yes. Would you mind showing me?"

Harry did so, touching his lightsaber to merge in the Force with the stygium crystal within.

" _Homonem Revelo."_

Dumbledore's jinx was gentle compared to what Harry experienced in the Department of Mysteries, but he was still ripped from his protections. "How do you do that?"

"The revealing spell is dependent on one's power and determination," Dumbledore said. "Your technique, while inventive, has its drawback. That cloak does not. But even should you choose not to use it, I know for a fact your father wanted you to have it when you came here."

"Why?"

"Well, knowing James he likely hoped you would use it to sneak into the girl's quidditch locker rooms," Dumbledore said with a mad twinkle in his eyes. "While Lily was a wonderful influence on him, he was always a tad incorrigible. Regardless, it is an invaluable gift. Speaking of, are you wearing the ring I gave you?"

Frowning, Harry felt at the ring he had obligingly put around his neck. "Yes."

Dumbledore beamed. "Excellent. Now, what shall we study today?"


	29. The Third Task

A/N: For some reason, I was unable to load my chapter in normally, so I've had to use the cut and paste method. I apologize for any formatting errors. Also, like normal Chap 28 review responses are available in my forums like normal. If I missed yours and you wish a response or have a question, feel free to post it in the forum.

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty Nine: The Third Task**

\- Kyle Katarn's biceps _can_ repel firepower of that magnitude.

Even to someone like Severus Snape, it was still difficult watching someone familiar in pain.

Narcissa Malfoy's blood-red eyes followed Snape's progress through the foyer of Malfoy Manor even while her mouth opened in a silenced scream of un-ending agony. She stood seemingly caught in a cube of shimmering amber, frozen in a moment of unimaginable agony. The true horror of the curse was how very slow it was. Severus knew enough about the curse to know that it took tremendous power to cast it and that it could take years for the victim to die, all the while suffering _cruciatus_ -levels of pain.

Within the amber, the once beautiful face was ravaged by agony. And it had been, for the past week.

Severus forced himself to tear his eyes from the horror if it. He knew the Dark Lord placed her there as a reminder and a warning to all his followers, and never, not even during the First War, had everyone feared him as much as they did then. Lucius lived, his hand replaced by hideous, silver claw, and every day was forced to look upon the results of his failure.

The Dark Lord did not just destroy those who failed him—he destroyed what they loved.

Into what once was a gaily lit and decorated ballroom, Severus reached the council chamber where Voldemort held court. A roaring fireplace and a few sparsely lit chandeliers provided scant light overhead, shrouding the few surviving members of Voldemort's inner circle in flicking shadow. Snape counted up the heads, noting coolly only a dozen remained alive after the Ministry fiasco.

If they had only lost the Prophecy or Potter, Snape was sure the Malfoys would have only suffered a few _Cruciatus_ curses. But one of Potter's allies harmed the Dark Lord directly and took from him one of his most valued lieutenants, and his wrath was beyond terrifying.

"Ahh, Severus, you're late," the Dark Lord himself said. Ordinarily, the man's tone would have been slightly mocking. Now it sounded low and dangerous.

"I beg forgiveness, my lord," Snape said with a low bow. "I set about the task you assigned as soon as our forces freed me from Azkaban. The vampires did not wish to negotiate for the item after their losses. But I have obtained the object as you ordered."

He reached into his pocket and removed a twisted, mangled object which he held out before him in both hands. Voldemort's wand tipped up and the object flew across the room into his hands, while with a nod he gave permission for Snape to sit. "Do you know what it is?"

"As you suspected, it is one of Katarn's alien weapons, my lord. From what the vampire coven leader told me, it seems similar to the weapon used to harm you at the Ministry."

The Dark Lord's _reparo_ charm reassembled the destroyed weapon, but when he pointed it up into the air, nothing happened. Frowning, he turned the Snape. "It does not appear to be functioning."

The threat hung in the air. Snape lowered his eyes. "My lord, this weapon is beyond my ken. I took it to even the finest Muggle scientists and they could not understand how it works. One said the technology was centuries beyond what they had even imagined. I beg forgiveness for failing you."

Voldemort tossed the useless weapon away, wincing slightly at the pain such a gesture still caused even weeks after his injury. "Bah! You are the only one to even have a small measure of success."

The other Death Eaters around the table looked at each other nervously. Obvious in her absence was Bellatrix Lestrange, her husband and her brother in law. Also missing was Rookwood, one of the most effective of Voldemort's fighters. Lucius was there, but he looked so pale, weathered and crushed in spirit he seemed a shell of his former self. In the absence of the former elite, Yaxley of all people had drifted to the top of the food chain.

"How can I learn to shield against such weapons if I do not know their full capability?" Voldemort demanded. No one, not even he, expected an answer.

Knowing he was risking much, Snape cleared his throat. "Lord, my I speak as a loyal follower?"

"Speak, Severus."

"My lord, the last task of the TriWizard Tournament is in mere weeks. You told us originally the goal was to use Potter's blood for your rebirth. I obtained that blood for you, and here you sit—proof to us all that not even death can shackle your might. But my lord…when the boy discovered my role in Katarn's supposed death, he spoke of the whole world burning to glass. He spoke of great machines travelling through the stars and splitting all of Britain in half. And my Lord, Dumbledore himself believed him. Perhaps…perhaps your great patience can extend further to let the tournament play out. The boy will leave—he has no desire to stay on this world. And when he is gone, all of Britain will be yours."

"Just let him go?" Voldemort asked.

"If it removes the threat of their alien weapons…and if you think it wise."

Voldemort leaned back, staring intently at Snape with reptilian-red eyes. "Perhaps I would. The boy has made no secret of his desire to flee. But you see, Severus, despite the failings of those I trusted, I have had more success in discovering the boy's importance. Wormtail, bring her."

Snape and the other Death Eaters turned to watch as the traitor Peter Pettigrew walked into the room levitating a lump of cloth behind him. Voldemort took control of the levitating figure and positioned her directly over the table. With a sinking heart, Severus noted it was Sybil Trelawney.

"'Neither can live while the other survives,'" the Dark Lord said in a ringing voice. "So the prophecy goes. " _Either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives._ That was the part of the prophecy you never heard, Severus."

"Dumbledore never shared its entirety with me, lord."

"Do you still think I should just let Potter return to the stars?"

"No, Lord. Thank you for correcting me."

"We know this Katarn lives," Yaxley said. "Only he could have harmed our lord. If he survived, then Bones probably lives as well. Where are they weakest?"

"Bones is a strong witch, but she does have a weakness," Albert Runcorn said. The man still served as an auror in the Ministry and was a great source of information. "She lost the rest of her family and views her niece like a daughter."

"Yes, Susan Bones, a Fourth Year Hufflepuff," Snape said.

"Katarn's weakness is Potter," Voldemort said. "But what is Potter's weakness, Severus?"

Severus met the monster's gaze directly. "The witch he took to the Yule ball—a mudblood named Hermione Granger. She is his weakness. It was she who was what he would miss the most for his second task. But neither of these witches can be touched while Dumbledore remains at Hogwarts."

"Then we will have to see about that, won't we?" Voldemort said. "Bring him."

A lower follower dragged yet another figure in, and this time Severus saw with alarm it was a teary-eyed Draco. As horrible as it had to have been for the father, Severus could only imagine what it was like for the son to see his mother every day, hurt so horribly.

"Your father has failed me terribly, Draco," Voldemort purred. "But let it not be said I am not merciful. I have a task for you—one small task. If you succeed, then I will allow you and Lucius to try and save dear Narcissa. But should you fail me, you and your father will both join her. Do you understand?"

Draco choked back a sob. "I understand, my lord."

"Good. Despite Severus's failure, the events at the Ministry have given me a certain… inspiration. You shall be the instrument of that inspiration."

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

Two days before the Third Task, Harry and Hermione took one of the several carriages into Hogsmeade. Ostensibly it was to celebrate the fact that, despite being age fourteen and only having a few months of study, Harry had taken and passed both his OWLs and NEWTs.

"Really, anyone could do it," Hermione said. "Not to take away from your accomplishment, but Hogwarts education is as much about indoctrination and social conditioning as it is about the magic. I'm studying sixth year material myself."

"I know," Harry said quietly as the two watched the trees slide slowly by on their way into the village. It was cold, with a heavy snow over much of the countryside. Harry's heavy Jedi robes shimmered with warming charms, while Hermione wore wool mittens and cap of a maroon color that complimented her hair. They sat snuggled up against each other.

"I couldn't do it," Neville said from across the bench.

"You might surprise yourself," Harry told the other boy. "Still, I'm glad that part's done. I understand why the tests were called Nasty."

"Any plans for the final task?" Neville asked, seeking to change the topic.

Harry shrugged. "A few. It's a maze and magical obstacle course."

"And then what?" Hermione asked quietly.

As wonderful as it was for Harry to hold her; as much as he enjoyed her company and looked forward to seeing her at every opportunity; there existed a growing weight between them as the Third and Final task approached. Despite all that happened and all that he had learned, Harry was a fourteen-year-old Jedi padawan. There was not now, nor had there ever been, any question of what he would do when the tournament was over.

He didn't answer her, but he did squeeze her shoulder. Neville chose that moment to start talking pointedly about a new plant he was working on with Professor Sprout.

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

"Holy Adhan Mother of Merlin!" Tonks whispered. "It's true! You weren't lying!"

Kyle turned and stared at the suddenly blushing young woman. "So, the laser sword and blaster guns weren't enough?"

"Er, maybe?" she said weakly.

The others of their group made no comment as the _Preening Crow_ decloaked and came to an automated landing in the clearing beside their hide-out. Kyle cut the engines with his control vambrace that he'd recovered from Sanguini.

While Kyle called Tonks on her reaction, he was aware of the startled, awed expressions on the rest, save Amelia. Her face was perfectly still, as if set in granite. "Are those weapons?"

She pointed to the laser cannons set on the tips of the stabilizers, and the autoblaster cannon he'd adopted from the old Alliance B-wing assault fighter set under the nose of the cockpit. "Yep."

"How powerful?"

Kyle shrugged. "I could level Hogwarts in about ten seconds. I could level London in about an hour."

Leaving his colleagues to consider that, Kyle led the way up the loading ramp and into the cargo bay. "Don't touch anything," he said over his shoulder.

"Protective charms?" Gumboil asked.

"Nah, you might just set off a torpedo and kill us all," came Kyle's laconic answer. He said nothing more as he left them behind, crossed through the familiar living space until he reached the cockpit. Somehow, he wasn't surprised when Amelia joined him a few minutes later.

"So it's all real," she finally said now that they were along. Her eyes rolled over the myriad controls of the cockpit, all in Galactic Basic. She spoke quietly, her face still and calm. "It was one thing to hear you admit it and know it intellectually. But to see this…"

Kyle took her hand, startling her sufficiently to look him in the eye. "So," he said softly. "What do you plan to do after this is all over?"

A corner of her mouth ticked up. "I owe it to the people of the United Kingdom to clean up the mess. But I also qualify for early retirement in a couple of years. After that, I just have no idea what I would do."

With a squeeze of her hand, Kyle nodded. "It's a big galaxy, Amelia. I'm sure if we work together, we can figure something out."

"Very possibly," she allowed.

The moment passed and she looked through the viewport to the house below. "So what's the plan?"

"The task is this afternoon," Kyle said. "We hover on repulsors over the school and track Harry's implant. If he disappears, we'll know in a second and get there in minutes."

"Are you sure something is going to happen?"

"No," Kyle admitted. "But Voldemort has been quiet since the Ministry. He's had time to recover and plan, and he's going to want to do something big and dramatic to try and erase his last kriff-up. Kidnapping Harry is just his style."

It was a mark of how close the two had grown that she could hear in his voice something very few could. "He's a remarkable young man. I have no doubt he can last long enough for us to get there."

Kyle nodded, patted her hand one more time, and then shouted over his shoulder. "Everyone sit down and buckle up!"

He had a little grin on his face as he dialed down the inertial compensators to 90%, and then gunned it.

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

Harry stared in consternation as the ten-foot tall hedge grew back so quickly after his lightsaber cut that it was much like trying to cut an opening in water. _I guess I'm going to the long way._

The days leading up to the tournament passed in a blur of intense lessons with Dumbledore, trying in a limited time to hone not just his magic but his magical reflexes. As a Jedi, Harry was conditioned to respond to hazardous situations with the Force. It was difficult to overcome that early condition, especially when the Force generally got him out of sticky situations. However, apparition was a useful tool to have and magic gave him an ability to attack at range the Force rarely allowed.

So he learned all he could from the ancient, powerful wizard. He was fully cognizant of the fact that Dumbledore was also constantly teaching him about wizarding culture and his personal heritage. He didn't know if the old wizard believed it would convince Harry to stay or not, but no matter how many times he heard fairy tales about brothers meeting death or how his grandfather use to jinx his grandmother's ponytails when they were children, Harry would not change his mind.

He had to complete his Jedi training.

So it seemed like no time had passed between his recovering from the Ministry fiasco, to his OWL and NEWT tests, to the morning of the Third Task. Harry started the day with a huge breakfast, intending to eat only a light lunch in anticipation for the task.

The Great Hall was abuzz with speculation and not all of it was good. People couldn't help but talk about the threat facing magical Britain. However, the confirmation that Voldemort had returned also alleviated some of the ill feeling many students had toward Harry for the supposed role Kyle Katarn had in Amelia Bones' death. Voldemort's return vindicated their supposed deaths in many eyes.

Susan Bones personally came and gave a tearful apology shortly after Harry put down Draco and his Slytherins.

He did not have much time to associate with the other students, though. With Dumbledore pushing him as hard as Kyle ever did he had times only for meals, meditation, and sleep. He rarely even got to spend more than an hour a day with Hermione, Neville, or the other few friends he'd made since his arrival.

But then the day arrived. The morning went by in a blur of well-wishes and shaking hands. He barely paid attention to the tournament announcers as he pulled on his Jedi robes. He knew Kyle could hear him and track him, but somehow even knowing his master was alive and nearby, he still felt isolated and lost.

When he joined the other champions at the mouth of the maze, he saw they were all as nervous as he was, though some showed it more than others. The beautiful French girl was so far behind following her failure of the second task that even if she won, it might not have been enough. Krum looked angry that he still had any competition, while Cedric just grinned nervously.

"Alright there, Harry?" the Hufflepuff asked.

Harry nodded and forced himself to smile. "Sure. And yourself?"

"Eager to get this over with. Good luck."

"Thanks, you too."

They entered in stages based on their scores; Krum, Harry, Cedric almost shoulder-to-shoulder, and then Fleur. And within minutes, Harry saw that the hedge was virtually impervious to his lightsaber. It was not entirely surprising, and in fact he almost was glad of it.

At least things would be fair. So, sinking himself into the Force, Harry let it guide his steps further into the impossible maze.

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

"This is amazing," Tonks yelled.

"Hold on, you stupid girl!" Gumboil shouted back nervously. He was clutching a support railing with both hands and looked as if he were about to be sick.

Kyle ignored them both as he walked down the open cargo ramp to the edge, grabbed the overhead support bar, and looked straight down over the grounds of the school. He had the _Preening Crow_ in passive stealth mode and on automated station-keeping a thousand feet over the maze. With his monoculars, he could see the contestants running through the maze, as well as the stadiums filled with cheering spectators.

Though he would never admit it, a small, prideful part of him wanted Harry to win the tournament. These witches and wizards had their own power, he had to admit, so it was not as lopsided an affair as might be the case if Harry were to compete against mainline humans. But still, Jedi were not supposed to crave victory. It was a sin, if Jedi had any sins. However, Kyle did not feel too guilty about it.

"Go, Harry," he whispered.

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

A line of aurors stood just outside the wardline of the school flanking a stone arch that had been crafted to allow for visitors despite the heightened wards of the school. At their head stood Albert Runcorn, twenty year veteran of the auror force. He was one of three senior aurors tasked with doing the detection charms for any dark artifacts or contraband.

He spotted a particularly large group of wizards approaching the gate in the midst of the crowds for the final task of the tournament. While they were dressed no differently than any other wizard or witch around them, the way they clumped together and eyed all those around them made his instincts scream. And if he could detect it, then he knew all his colleagues could to.

Stepping forward with his wand out, he said, "You lot, stand aside, now!"

The clump of ten witches and wizards froze for a long moment, staring at him in shock. "Well, get over here!" Runcorn demanded loudly.

"Need help, Bert?" Smithers asked.

"Aye, keep your eyes on them," Runcorn said. The signaled witches and wizards slowly made their way to him. He could see one about to hiss angrily at him, but he beat them to it. Whispering urgently as he made a show of casting faulty detection charms, he said, "You lot _look_ guilty. Merlin, every auror in the line spotted you. Break up, no more than two at a time, and smile like you're happy, or you'll blow everything."

All this was said _sotto voce_ while he finished his false scans. "Alright, you lot, go in. But I'm going to be watching you, so no funny business."

"Yes, sir, gov," one of the witches said with a slightly manic, too-wide smile.

Runcorn continued to watch them suspiciously as they made their way through the arch. "Trouble, you think?" Smithers asked.

"Maybe," Runcorn said, looking after them. "Take over here. I think I'm going to keep my eyes on that lot, just like I said."

"Right, go on, then. We got it here."

With a nod, Runcorn walked through the wardline himself, despite standing orders that he remain outside with perimeter security, and he had a perfectly justifiable reason to do so. In a few minutes, he'd caught up with the others, and as he did so, they all _disillusioned_ themselves as they made their way not to the stands or maze, but toward the castle.

In the increasing gloom of the late Scottish afternoon, the charms worked perfectly well.

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

It should not have surprised Harry when the contestants turned on each other. Granted, the contest so far had been individual tasks, but this time all four of them were thrown into the same task at roughly the same time. Given the nature of the competition and human spirit, it was only natural that they would try to slow each other down as much as the maze obstacles.

Employing both magic learned from Dumbledore and the Force, Harry had easily handled the acromantulas and blast-ended skrewts, but the boggart gave him a hard time. He'd just turned a corner when he skidded to a stop and faced a tall, lean figure with red and black tattoos clad in black robes with a red lightsaber in hand. Behind him, littering the ground, were dead children in Jedi robes. To his horror, he saw Anikol and Ansaki among the bodies.

His own saber came up immediately, but the Sith merely chuckled. "Little Jedi," he laughed while his yellow eyes glared. "Another little Jedi."

It was only as Harry studied the bodies that he realized the impossibility of the situation. Most of his training with Dumbledore involved powerful magic geared toward high-level combat. But this was something he remembered reading with Remus. He delved into his memory, until with a grim expression he hooked his saber back on his belt, brandished his wand, and said, " _Redikulus!_ "

The Sith blinked and then stumbled back as he suddenly ballooned out into an exaggerated caricature of Vernon Dursley, looking obscenely funny in Sith robes and tattoos. With a girlish scream, he turned and disappeared into the shadows.

Which is when Krum chose to try cursing him in the back.

If not for the Force, Harry would never have known it was coming. The older wizard had silenced his own footfalls. But with the Force as his ally, Harry was able to barely avoid the curse as he spun and knelt down, casting a disarming jinx.

Krum swiped it away with a contemptuous snort. "I do not see vat is zee deal vith you, Potter. You are notzing!"

He cursed again, this time employing a potentially lethal dismemberment curse that could easily have taken Harry's arm off. Rather than shielding, Harry spun past it and went on the offensive.

It wasn't his first time fighting against a wizard, but it was the first time he'd done so using nothing but magic. While Krum was no Dumbledore, neither was Harry. Krum was older, obviously more vicious, and showed none of the restraint Dumbledore would have.

Harry, on the other hand, was taught to fight by Kyle Katarn. Batting away a searing string of hexes and curses, Harry surged forward so fast that he blurred in Krum's eyes and spun about until his foot slammed into the Bulgarian's head.

As tough as he was, Krum was still a seventeen-year-old student. His dark eyes rolled up in his head and he dropped to the ground. Harry tossed his wand further up the path, thoroughly bound him, and then left him to be rescued.

Not ten minutes later, he came across a sight his young eyes were not entirely prepared for, although he was sure the young Emperor of the Galaxy would thoroughly have approved. A scantily clad Fleur Delacour was writhing against a glass-eyed Cedric, who lay prostrate on the ground. Her pale hand was reaching for his wand and he made no show of trying to stop her.

"Cedric!" Harry shouted.

Fleur looked up at Harry and suddenly her features darkened to something almost bestial and avian before she rose and conjured a ball of flame from her bare hands. "Go away!" she shouted. Her voice had two distinct tones—a girl's, and something higher and screeching just over it.

This time Harry didn't hesitate. It only took five charms to put her down and the moment she fell, he saw that what he thought was a state of undress was nothing but a glamour. When she fell, she did so fully clothed in the heavy robes she started the maze with.

Harry stepped over her at the still insensate Cedric. "I'm not sure I did you a favor," Harry admitted. Still, with no other participants, he made his way through the maze until he reached the final clearing.

After everything he had been through since his return to Earth, the final task of the tournament seemed rather…boring. He looked around the clearing for potential threats and cast every detection charm Dumbledore taught him, but could see nothing to stop him. So, he walked across the clearing to the flaming Goblet of Fire, and picked it up.

He felt a hook in his stomach and a sharp pull, and moments later he stood…exactly where he was supposed to be standing—on a raised platform in front of hundreds of cheering witches and wizards.

"And the winner of the Tri-Wizard Tournament is….HARRY POTTER!" a wizard announced in a voice augmented by magic.

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

"Huh," Kyle Katarn said after lowering his monoculars.

"So that's it?" Tonks asked. "Nothing?"

"Appears so," Kyle said. "We'll hang around until the students are back in the castle and the guests are gone, but it looks like the enemy chose to wait for now."

Tonks sighed. "Whew! Good. My mum and dad are down there too!"

Kyle said nothing as he continued to peer suspiciously down at the school. He didn't say it aloud, but he knew things were not over yet.


	30. The Dark Lord's Gambit

A/N: Chap 29 review responses are in my forums like normal.

 **Chapter Thirty: The Dark Lord's Gambit**

\- Kyle Katarn never calls the wrong number; you just answered the wrong phone.

Harry walked among a small knot of wizards on the way back to Hogwarts, trying for the life of him to figure out what to do next. Dumbledore walked slightly ahead of him, while Remus Lupin and Sirius Black flanked him like bodyguards.

He knew behind him, under magical lights, the whole of Hogwarts and those guests from the other schools were enjoying a celebration to mark the conclusion of the tournament, with food and beverages. Harry never planned to go because, if he were honest with himself, he never planned to finish. In the back of his mind he was absolutely sure Voldemort was going to strike somehow.

The fact he did not left Harry feeling somewhat lost.

Remus and Sirius were talking happily over his head, recounting the various aspects of the tournament which evidently everyone could see through the clever use of charmed mirrors. Harry ignored them and concentrated on what their next steps were supposed to be. It never dawned on him to celebrate. The idea of celebrating victory was as repugnant to Jedi philosophy as throwing a tantrum for a loss.

 _Stars above, Harry, Kol is right. You do need to loosen up. Enjoy yourself, you deserve a break._

Harry rolled his eyes but made no effort to respond to Kyle's mental nudging.

"So what are you going to do with the money?" Sirius asked. Harry realized abruptly that their conversation now included him.

Harry was so caught up in Kyle's urging that he didn't immediately register the question. When he did, he looked up at the godfather he'd never even known about and blinked. "Er, well, don't know, really. Do want it?"

"Harry, you don't just give away five thousand galleons!" Lupin said with a strained laugh. "That's more than most wizards make in a year!"

"Oh." Harry looked down at the charmed bag of coins, then back to Lupin. He noticed the threadbare clothes the man wore, and how tired he looked due to his condition. Without a second's hesitation, he handed the coins over. "Take it."

"Harry, I can't…"

"Before we came here, I'd just saved the life of the Emperor of one third of the galaxy," Harry explained earnestly. "The Empress Regent gave me a pretty big estate. I don't need money, Remus. And even if I did, gold is not really as valuable in the greater galaxy as it is here. We have technology that can actually make gold through molecular manipulation. I don't need this. I don't even want it. It might as well go to someone who can actually use it."

Remus looked over Harry's head at Sirius, who shrugged. "I don't need it, I inherited the Black Estate."

"I…thank you, Harry," Remus said humbly.

"Consider it payment for all your tutoring," Harry said quickly. "You really did help me a lot."

"Well, there you go!" Sirius said jubilantly. "It's salary for services rendered. Not even your pride can argue with that, Remus."

"You're being awfully quiet, Professor Dumbledore," Lupin noted in an attempt to redirect the conversation.

The old man was walking with his gloved, conjured hand held tight against his chest. "Am I? Well, what is there to say but to congratulate Mr. Potter on a well-won contest."

"You were expecting Voldemort to attack, weren't you?" Harry said.

The other two men quieted, while Dumbledore merely gazed at Harry. "Yes," he said finally. "I did. The fact he did not, in its own way, is as troubling as if he had."

Harry glanced behind them back along the trail that led to the maze. Evidently the celebration was winding down. There were crowds of students slowly making their way back to the castle or to the wardline, but most were easily twenty to thirty minutes behind. There was no sign at all of anything threatening. The Force itself remained oddly quiet as well, but not a peaceful quiet. Rather, it felt pensive, if such a word could be used to describe the Force.

He looked around as they approached the courtyard in front of the main gates searching for some reason why things would be so oddly quiet on the heels of such a momentous occasion. But the courtyard was strangely empty—every single person in the castle had attending the games, staff included.

"Where is everyone?" Harry finally asked aloud. "Why are we the first ones back?"

Remus and Sirius both looked at each other in surprise, having not considered it. It was at that precise moment that Harry heard a distinctive crack not ever heard before in the castle. Dumbledore staggered, his face set in an expression of confusion more than anything else, while Remus and Sirius pulled their wands.

They were too late. As Harry gripped his saber, purple and black curses crisscrossed the courtyard, catching the two wizards in the cross-fire before they could even draw breath to cast in their defense. One of the curses clipped Harry as he dove forward. It felt like a fiery hammer slammed into his upper hip and sent him spinning.

He landed on his feet ready to fight when another spell struck him. With light and magic flying back and forth, it was impossible for him to say for sure, but it looked almost as if the spell came from Dumbledore himself.

Harry's legs locked to his horror and he fell to the ground. Desperately he tried every counter-jinx he knew, but nothing worked. He had time to look up as a figure shimmered into existence in time to cast a simple disarming charm against Dumbledore, who continued to simply stand and stare. However, as Harry watched he saw the red stain marring the headmaster's silvery robes at his chest.

Frowning, Harry stared at the newly visible figure. He recognized the white hair and sickly complexion as Draco Malfoy, and in his hand he held a Muggle pistol. In his other he held both his wand and now the Headmaster's. All around the barely-lit courtyard dark wizards began to shimmer into visibility.

Harry realized with the type of clarity that only came with great pain that if he relit his saber, he would not survive—not with his legs locked. Though he hated to do it, he reached into the pocket of his Jedi robes and removed the invisibility cloak Dumbledore had given him. Without a word, he pulled the cloak over his crouched figure and just in time.

"Where's Potter?"

Harry's stomach roiled when he saw Severus Snape approach the frozen Draco.

"Don't know!" another wizard said.

Snape raised his wand. "Homenum Revelio!"

Every time he'd heard that charm, Harry had felt himself blasted into visibility. But just as the Headmaster had said, this time Harry remained hidden under his cloak. "The boy must have fled," Snape declared. He then walked to Draco's side. As he did so, Draco dropped his gun to the flagstones as he continued to stare at Dumbledore.

The headmaster had not moved, nor fallen to his knees. He simply stood and stared back at Draco without expression while his blood continued to soak the front of his robe. Snape walked casually to him and leaned forward to whisper something Harry could not hear. Only then, having heard the former professor's words, did Dumbledore fall stiffly first to his knees, and then face-first to the stones.

"You've done it, Draco," Snape said coolly. "You have saved your family. Give that wand to the Dark Lord and all will be forgiven."

As soon as Dumbledore died, the charm freezing Harry's legs faded. It did nothing to alleviate the fire-like burning at his hip but he could at least now move. Gathering the Force and magic about him, Harry did just that. Without a sound, he burst from underneath the cloak toward the nearest Death Eater and bisected the man from head to navel with his saber.

Other wizards shouted, but Harry was already moving on. He cast a powerful bone-exploding curse at the wizard running toward him while diving forward and thrusting his saber into the chest of another. He felt spells burning past, but unlike his last meeting with Snape, this time Harry kept moving.

It was not Snape, however, that he was aiming for. He sliced through another pair of Death Eaters and one man in red auror robes who was fighting with the villains until he came face to face with a red-eyed, exhausted-looking Draco Malfoy. Without hesitation Harry thrust his saber into the other boy's chest.

Draco's eyes bulged and a strange, gurgle came from his lips. Just as quickly he shot back away from Harry before he could pull the sword side-ways to finish his enemy off. He saw Draco collapse into Snape's arms.

"You are a fool, Potter, just like your father!" the dark wizard cried moments before he disappeared with Draco in his arms.

Only then did the first students and staff arrive at the edge of the courtyard, where they witnessed the carnage of dismembered bodies, cursed wizards, and a perfectly still Dumbledore. Harry spun around, looking for more Death Eaters to fight, but like Snape they somehow had apparated or portkeyed out, as if the wards had fallen.

With a shock, he realized that's exactly what had happened.

A shriek brought Harry's attention back to the gate to see Professor McGonagall running toward Dumbledore. "What happened?" she cried.

"Draco Malfoy shot him," Harry said, right before the flame in his own hip overcame him, and he collapsed just like Dumbledore had. "Snape was here, with more Death Eaters. Remus and Sirius need help too!"

As more and more people arrived, the pandemonium grew. Every student could see Dumbledore lying still in a pool of blood in the middle of the courtyard, not to mention all the men Harry slaughtered, and the increasing cries of dismay were making conversation difficult, much less retaining order.

Finally McGonagall stood and cast a loud blasting charm into the air. "All students are to report to their houses at once. Heads of houses are to take an immediate head count. Professor Babbage, please handle the Gryffindors for me. Professor Sinistra, please fetch the aurors as soon as you can."

Reluctantly at first, and then more energetically as students finally had some leadership, the student body began to circulate widely around the fallen body of their headmaster. Harry saw tears and fear in many eyes.

What he did not see, however, was Hermione. A witch he did not recognize knelt down beside him with a cool, professional manner and began casting medical diagnostic charms. Her eyes widened when she saw his hip. "Mr. Potter, my name is Andromeda Tonks. We have a mutual acquaintance. And we need to get you to Saint Mungo's immediately, or you will lose your leg, and possibly your life."

"But what about…?"

"Hush, now, Harry," she said, a moment before stunning him. He'd felt no danger from her in the Force and so had no defense as the darkness took him.

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

Harry woke in the one place he never thought he would wake from—the cramped med station on board the Preening Crow.

The ship's medical droid, 10-5C, stood in the corner, its glowing eyes staring at him intently. "Good morning, Master Potter. You'll be pleased to know that you are fully healed."

"Er, right. Thanks."

Healed, but not dressed. He quickly pulled on his Jedi robes and left the med station but found the rest of the ship completely empty. After finishing his exploration of the craft, he walked toward the cargo bay and found the ramp open. Just outside, he saw a small log cabin surrounded by a thick copse of woods.

It was not the Force that guided Harry, but rather the series of loud explosions which led him around the cabin into a clearing where Amelia Bones stood on her one good and one artificial leg, casting powerful blasting curses at the nearby trees while spewing a long, constant stream of invective.

Kyle sat nearby on a conjured folding chair, one leg of his dark pants pulled up to reveal his heavily muscled, hairy leg. The exposed knee was wrapped in bacta patches and a strong black brace. Behind him, several adult witches and wizards stood looking worriedly at Amelia. One or two of the younger ones looked as if they'd been crying.

"What's going on?" Harry asked.

The stream of invective stopped, as did the cursing. Amelia spun around, and he was surprised to see that the strong, older witch had obviously been crying. Without a word, she stomped awkwardly past him and the others and disappeared into the house.

"Kyle?" Harry asked.

"Come here, Harry," the old Jedi said.

The others broke up and stared heading into the house. Harry felt their sympathetic eyes on him as he approached his master. When they were along, Kyle reached into the breast pocket of his old leather flight jacket and handed Harry a piece of parchment. As he unfolded it, he noticed it had blood stains on it.

The ink, in fact, looked as if it were written in blood, and opening himself to the Force he could feel pain emanating from the parchment like heat from a fire. With a concerned look at Kyle's stony face, Harry read:

A fair trade. Two lives for one. Bring Harry Potter to Diagon Alley at Midnight and we shall bring Granger and Bones. Fail to bring Harry Potter to Diagon Alley, and we shall only bring pieces of Granger and Bones.

The parchment was not signed.

"Kyle?"

"McGonagall confirmed privately to Amelia that both Hermione and Susan never returned from the tournament. Killing Dumbledore wasn't his only goal that night, it seems."

"So what do we do?" Harry asked. "Kyle…I can't…what do we do?"

The idea of Hermione hurting made Harry's stomach ache worse than even the Goblet did when it was trying to force him to come back to Earth. The mere thought of her in pain filled him with such panicked dread he could barely think. He had to…

He felt a hand on his shoulder, but when he looked Kyle appeared bleary. With a start, Harry realized he'd been crying. "Kyle, I can't let her be hurt. Not because of me."

"I know, Harry. Amelia was worried that you'd want to leave Earth. The tournament is over. She doesn't know you well enough to realize you wouldn't leave, no matter who it was. Especially not for Miss Granger."

"But what do we do, Kyle? Not even you could really beat him. Do you think…do you think we could com Master Skywalker?"

"Ossus is a week away. The nearest Imperial forces are at least three days away. That's why I picked Earth, it was far away from everything. We're on our own."

"So what do we do? We can't just leave them! We can't!"

Kyle studied Harry's face in silence, as if searching for something only he could even know existed. Finally, though, he nodded. "I know, Harry. And we won't. We know Diagon Alley is a trap—that Voldemort wants you did because of this prophecy. But we can't kill him first until Nagini is dead."

"So…?"

"So, we meditate and seek answers in the Force," Kyle said.

"Do you think it will help?"

"Probably not, but that was always Luke's suggestion and it seemed to work for him."

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

"Master, he did as you tasked. Dumbledore is dead, witnessed by the wand in your hand. Please, my lord, please have mercy on my family."

Severus watched with a stony face as Lucius Malfoy prostrated himself on the floor of his own manor before Voldemort, begging pathetically for the lives of his family. Draco lay upstairs, recovering slowly from Potter's blasted weapon. The curse Snape struck the boy with should have put him down; he never accounted for the boy's own alien magic enabling him to do so much damage after the fact.

Voldemort sat in silence, staring down at his once proud but now groveling servant, and then at the wand he held in his hand—Dumbledore's wand. "Indeed, the boy managed to succeed, having only lost six of my strongest supporters, including Runcorn, my best source in the Aurors."

"But master…we captured the Granger and Bones girls," Malfoy said, his face still pointed to the parquet tiles of the floor. "Amelia would never let her niece come to harm, and Severus said…"

"I know what he said, Lucius."

"Yes, master."

Voldemort turned to Snape and nodded. The potions master walked quickly from the room until he reached the corner where Naricssa Malfoy floated in a trap of unending agony. He levitated the granite platform that held the spell in place, and with it came Narcissa herself, trapped like a life-sized mannequin. Upon his return to the room, Malfoy turned and saw him, and could not help a sob.

"Your son succeeded where you failed," Voldemort said. "His sacrifice has bought you my mercy, Lucius. But do not fail me again."

"Never, Master!"

Voldemort pointed his wand with a firm thrust of magic that Severus, despite his years of study, could never master. Instantly the shimmering amber field around Narcissa disappeared and she collapsed to the granite square. The silence of the room was broken by her ragged inhalation, followed by a harrowing scream.

Nor did the screaming stop. Lucius scrambled from his feet to his wife who continued to lay on the granite screaming just from the memory of the agony. He gathered her in his arms and ran with her from the room, while her screams continued to mark his progress.

When silence had returned to the hall Voldemort turned to Snape, and the potions master knew he was about to receive orders to bring the two captive girls. So far, neither had been harmed, but he also knew it was just a matter of time. Already Greyback and the Carrow siblings were frothing at the mouth to play with the two attractive teenaged girls.

However, before he could speak, a young Death Eater recruit came running into the hall, stumbling over the threshold so that he almost fell before Voldemort rather than bowing. "My lord, the alien has sent a reply."

If Voldemort had eyebrows, Snape had no doubt they would be raised at the moment. "A reply? Then by all means, let's see it."

"Er, sir, it's uh…a machine of some sort. The owls dropped it off just outside our wardline."

"My Lord, it could be an explosive," Snape cautioned.

"Perhaps, but I do not think so, not with our guests," Voldemort said. "Bring the machine here."

The underline bowed and scrambled back clumsily to his feet. Moments later he returned carrying what looked like a small black box on wheels. The moment the device came within sight of Voldemort, the wheels began to spin, startling the underling so much he dropped it.

The box hit the floor hard on its side but somehow managed to right itself. It spun about on its four small wheels and spit a few odd beeps and whistled at the startled underling before spinning back and rolling to the center of the floor. It came to a stop ten feet away from Voldemort, and the moment it did the air shimmered until the alien Kyle Katarn floated before him.

"Voldemort," the old man said.

"Is this a pensieve memory?" Voldemort whispered to Snape.

"No, I can see and hear you," the image of Katarn said. "This is the normal means of communication for all the millions of worlds beyond this insignificant little speck of dirt you call Earth." The old man's disdain and contempt was obvious. "You have power, wizard. I acknowledge your magic. I respect your strength, even if your character is pathetic. But you seem to be under a mistaken impression of your place in the universe. So I would like to show you something before we discuss your demands."

The alien disappeared, and in his place the air solidified into what looked like a modern city not too unlike London, save for differences in architecture. Voldemort leaned forward, genuinely fascinated, as the clouds over the city began to boil. From them, a great dagger-shaped craft floated down majestically over the city, held aloft by magics not even the Dark Lord himself could imagine. The craft was so large it seemed almost to dwarf the city itself.

Suddenly, the underbelly of the great floating machine began to spit out green bolts of light, and where each bolt of light struck, the city did not just burn, but exploded so powerfully Voldemort leaned back in shock as mushroom clouds began to burst up from the city, while the ship continued to float above the devastation unaffected.

The image cut away to leave Katarn once again watching. "What you witnessed as the final engagement of a civil war fought over thirty years ago. That ship was under the command of the Galactic Empire.

Know, Voldemort, that Harry Potter has been adopted as an honorary member of the Imperial Family by the Empress Regent. That if any harm befalls him, the Empress will not hesitate a moment to reduce the whole of Great Britain to glass. It would take one ship less than one hour to do so. You have powerful magic, yes. But you are a primitive, ignorant barbarian on a backward, uncivilized planet. Don't let your arrogance lead to the death of your entire world. We will meet you in Diagon Alley, and you will return your hostages to us unharmed and then walk away. Or you, and everything you know, will be utterly destroyed."

The image disappeared and the droid suddenly began to shake before it caught fire and melted quickly into slag. Voldemort stood, not saying a word as he considered the message, before finally bursting out in laughter. As with all things, the laughter held no humor.

"The fool thinks he can bluff me!"

"Master, perhaps…" Snape began.

"Silence!" Voldemort shouted, all sign of laughter gone in a second. "If the fool had that kind of power, he would have used it already. Your own reports say that this Katarn belonged to an order dedicated to protection, yes? A knight Templar in the stars. No, one such as him would never indiscriminately destroy a civilization. He was bluffing. But…"

He paused in thought. "But, I would be a fool to believe I knew the full extent of what alien tools he does have with him. We will not harm the hostages, not yet. We will take them untouched to Diagon Alley as he asked. But once there…then we will show him just how much power we do have. Death Eaters, prepare for battle. Tonight, Harry Potter and all who support him will die!"

The Death Eaters in the hall cheered because Voldemort expected it, and to not meet his expectations could be lethal. Voldemort stood and motioned for Snape as he left the room. "Not you," he said softly. "You, Snape, are to stay here to guard Nagini. Just in case."

It was a startling admission to Severus that the Dark Lord acknowledged risk. The Potions Master bowed low. "Thank you for your trust, m'lord. I shall not fail you."

"You had better not. If Nagini is harmed in any way, you will die. But you will die very, very slowly."

sp

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A/N: This is the second week that I was unable to actually upload my .docx version. I've reported the problem to support, but just be aware that if you find any weird formatting, it was because of how I was forced to get the story out. I despise having to cut and paste.


	31. The Power He Knows Not

A/N: Chap 30 review responses are in my forums. Please note that as has become tradition, when we're so close to the end I choose not to keep people waiting. So, this and the final chapter have both been posted today. Thank you for reading.

* * *

 **Chapter Thirty-One: The Power He Knows Not**

Kyle Katarn knows it's a trap.

Diagon Alley lay deserted. All the shops were closed; their wards magically sealed. In the utter silence of the alley itself, one could hear could the constant, distant thrumming of Muggle London.

The only movement was the quiet scurrying of a rat along the edge of the alley. The rat was large, even for his kind, with scruffy graying fur and a nicked tail. As it approached Knockturn Alley, the rat suddenly shimmered and grew progressively larger until it became a man walking hunched over in the gloom.

The man's dirty round face twitched, as if it held whiskers still. He continued up the dingy, narrow Knockturn Alley until he rounded a bend near an old, boarded up apothecary and came across a blind cul-de-sac densely packed with a large crowd of witches and wizards in black robes and silver masks. At their head stood Voldemort himself, clad in black but with no mask. At his feet sat two dirty, beaten teen-aged girls, each gagged and bound.

"Report, Wormtail," Voldemort whispered.

"Potter and Bones are standing near the Leaky Cauldron," the obsequious wizard said. "I searched but could find no trace of anyone else."

"What did your rat's nose smell?" Voldemort demanded.

"Bone's perfume, m'lord."

"And Katarn?"

"No sign, m'lord."

Voldemort stood in silence a moment. "He seeks to ambush us," the Dark Lord finally said after consideration. "He is a warrior, that one. He will be on the rooftops, I am sure. Likely with others of Amelia's little band. Jugson, take twenty men on brooms and sweep the rooftops. Kill anyone you see."

The chosen wizard bowed and began pushing his way through the crowd of Death Eaters with a band of other fliers. When they were in the air, Voldemort nodded in satisfaction. "It is time, my friends. After this night, nothing will stand in our way."

With the barest flick of his wand, Voldemort forced the two weeping girls to their feet so that Wormtail could push them forward. They emerged into the alley like a processional—dark robes rustling in the relative silence of the evening.

His intended victims saw him and stiffened noticeably—even Bones did not bother hiding her fear. At the front of their processional of death, little Susan Bones began squealing something at her aunt through her gag until Wormtail conveniently silenced her.

Despite the obviousness of the situation, the two began walking toward them, Harry Potter and Amelia Bones both. At twenty paces apart, both parties stopped. "We came as agreed," Amelia said, her voice firm and strong despite her expression of fear. "Release the girls."

Voldemort raised his hand, and at that signal his forces quickly spread out to either side and raised a series of anti-apparation jinxes over the whole alley. "My dear Amelia," he said. "You do understand that you are not leaving this alley. None of you are."

"Don't think you can…"

A quick, efficient killing curse cut her off before she could say another word. Voldemort thought the explosion and sparks as she fell backward odd, but the terror on Potter's face distracted him sufficiently. "Ahh, Harry, now it is just you and me. Oh, wait, not quite yet. We need to dispose of all distractions, don't we? Wormtail, kill…"

And that was when, from his hovering ship three hundred meters above the alley and easily a hundred meters above the highest of Voldemort's broom riders, Kyle Katarn fired his Tenloss DXR-6 Disrupter Rifle. The thin beam of non-harmonic energy pulsed through Voldemort's magically generated body in a split second, ripping apart the individual molecules despite the magic binding those molecules together. The Dark Lord had only a second to scream in agony before he was reduced to a pile of ash.

It happened so quickly the other Death Eaters could only stare in shock. It was the sound of laser cannons that made them look up. The _Preening Crow_ had decloaked, and two small anti-personnel laser cannons were using powerful AI targeting computers to pick off Jugson's broom squad two or three wizards at a time. The terrified wizards, having never seen or even heard of such weapons, much less a spaceship, flew around desperately without any obvious destination. Many resorted to moves learned playing on the Slytherin or Ravenclaw Quidditch teams, but the computer was faster than their merely human reflexes and in mere seconds they were destroyed.

"Kill everyone!" Wormtail screamed in terror. He looked down to dispatch the two girls but saw in horror that they were both gone! Potter, though… Wormtail had to shout to summon the hatred to cast the Killing Curse, but he succeeded regardless. Potter sparked and exploded just like Bones did as he fell, lifeless, to the ally stones.

The animagus ran forward to confirm the kills but slowed in confusion. Where Bones and Potter had fallen, he saw what looked like metal golems. The one laying where Bones had fallen was motionless and dark. The one that lay where Potter fell had one light on where a right eye would have been on a human. "Hello," a static-filled, garbled feminine voice said. "I am D-DH532. How may I be of assistance?"

"No!" Wormtail whispered. He turned back to see where Death Eaters stood caught in their own anti-apparition jinxes as they cast curses up at the floating spaceship. As Wormtail watched, a small silver ball fell into their midst, unnoticed by those looking upward. It suddenly erupted in a sphere of blinding white light. The concussive force of the explosion blasted him back off his feet where he landed with a painful thud.

With effort, he picked himself up and saw, numbly, that almost all the Death Eaters were dead or so badly injured they could not stand. From the alien craft above came enemy broom riders—Amelia Bones and her band.

He considered cursing them but knew the battle was lost. Instead, he scrambled to his feet and turned to flee into the Leaky Cauldron when the air in front of him rippled in a surprising fashion. James Potter's old invisibility cloak fell away to reveal a blazing-eyed Harry Potter and two teen-aged girls. Their bonds had been severed; their gags removed.

"Harry!" Wormtail said. "Wait…"

He caught the sound of an alien sword of unearthly fire buzzing toward him, and then nothing.

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

In Malfoy Manor, Severus Snape stood over a cauldron stirring a healing potion for what he assumed would be a variety of injuries. Like Voldemort, Snape knew Kyle Katarn enough to know that the old man would not walk into an ambush without a plan of action. However, he also knew that Bones and Katarn did not have enough allies to mount any type of sustained resistance against the sixty wizards Voldemort had available to fight.

The number used to be higher, but Katarn had already proven his prowess as a fighter.

The door behind him opened and Lucius Malfoy walked in. The once proud man had been broken so thoroughly only a shadow of the Malfoy family remained. His shoulders were bowed by the unbearable weight of his wife's long torture, and by the near death of his only son and heir.

He glanced about the room warily before seeing Severus. "They've left, then?"

Severus frowned before he realized that Voldemort, in his infinite mercy, had allowed Lucius the luxury of treating his wife and son instead of fighting. "Yes, an hour past."

"Narcissa took soup earlier," Lucius said. "It is the first she's eaten since…she ate a few spoonfuls."

"That is good," Severus said neutrally. Unlike Bellatrix, Severus never hated Narcissa. Her cruelty was never intentional—rather her slights against him were simply a product of her upbringing. She never noticed his discomfort with her glib comments on his blood status because for her, he was what he was, and she took neither pleasure nor pain from it.

Lucius nodded and started walking back the way he came. Severus knew the man was casting about in a desperate gamble for solace or support, but even within his own house he had little hope of finding it.

The potion master's meditations were interrupted, however, by a screeching wind that blasted through the stained-glass windows of the hall. Lucius and Malfoy both spun to watch as the visible wind tore through the room, ripping away ancient, precious tapestries and overturning centuries-old chairs and benches until it slammed into the snoozing, impossibly-large snake, Nagini.

The snake writhed so hard from its nest it fell from the divan that it had claimed as its home and thrashed about on the floor. Moments later, it went very still before raising its head. Severus's chest constricted as he saw red eyes glowing from the snakes' head. " _Severus,_ " a ghostly whisper of the Dark Lord's voice called. " _I need you. Come to me, now!"_

Trembling, Severus approached the snake as it coiled itself and raised its head almost to eye level. "My lord, is that you?" Severus asked. "What happened?"

" _I have been betrayed!"_ The snake hissed with Voldemort's voice. _"But the fools could never understand. Death holds no dominion over me! I am immortal, and through you, I shall live again!"_

Severus has only a moment to scream before the snake struck, sinking its fangs into his shoulder.

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

Harry Potter was in a position he never, in a million years, thought he would be in. He found the position to be at once exhilarating, exhausting, and utterly terrifying.

Two attractive teenage girls were hanging on to him with every ounce of strength either possessed. Susan Bones clutched at his left hand, vacillating between tears and hysterical laughter. Occasionally, she worked herself up to professions of sincere thanks accompanied by kisses. Nor were the kisses restricted just to Harry's left cheek.

Hermione clung to his right arm. She wasn't gibbering, though her eyes were red. Both girls bore bruises from their captivity, but from the Force alone Harry could feel that neither was terribly injured, just terrified. Hermione didn't kiss him like Susan did, but she clung not just to his arm, but clasped his right hand in hers so hard his fingers were slightly numbed from it.

Harry couldn't help but wonder how Anikol would have responded to the situation. Or, perhaps, the young Emperor.

The three of them sat in a conference room in the Ministry of Magic while a befuddled Rufus Scrimgeour fought a losing shouting match with Amelia Bones and Kyle Katarn. The rest of Amelia's team huddled in the far side of the conference room while other aurors from Scrimgeour's brief tenure held the room entrance. Harry knew the discussion was important and that he should be listening, but it was impossible to pay attention to anything but the two girls sitting so close to him on either side that he could feel their bodies through his robes. Susan's tear-filled kisses were very nice, though he was concerned about Hermione's relative silence.

However, at some point Hermione moved the hand she held from his leg to hers, turned to him, and between Susan's professions of eternal gratitude and a promise to do _anything_ she could to repay him, whispered, "It's not over yet, is it?" The softly whispered question was enough to make Susan halt her blubbering and blink in confusion. Harry, though, could only admire Hermione's clarity. "He still had the snake," she added.

"No, I don't think it's really over yet," Harry admitted.

Abruptly Hermione stood, leaving his right side oddly cold, and stomped out of the room. The startled Ministry aurors made no move to stop her. Harry started to stand but Susan pulled at his arm. "Harry, don't leave me, please!" she pleaded.

He looked down at her lovely oval face, framed by burnished coppery hair. She held his left arm to her breasts, clutching it desperately. "I have to, Susan," he said softly.

"But Harry, you saved me. You save _me._ That means…"

"It means I am a Jedi," Harry told her gently as he carefully, and with some regret if he were honest with himself, extricated his arm. "I would do the same for anyone."

"But Hermione…"

"Hermione…" Harry stopped. "You're safe, now, Susan. Your Aunt is here. But Hermione also needs me."

It was hard for Harry to understand how quickly Susan was able to calm herself. Her eyes watered, yes, but all gibbering stopped as she looked up at him. "And you need her," she finally said.

There was no point in denying it, so he just nodded.

"Well, I suppose there's always Cedric," she said with a sad smile, all hint of blubbering gone. "You'd better go, then."

"Thank you, Susan."

He spun to follow Hermione. The aurors this time did try to stop him until Kyle's voice overrode the arguments. "Bring her back here for now, Harry," the old Jedi said. "No one will try to stop you."

Harry paused and then realized that _of course_ Kyle would be paying attention. The aurors in front of him glanced nervously to the hard-faced old Jedi and probably remembered that this was the man who did not just hurt the Dark Lord, but likely killed him just an hour past. They stepped aside and Harry rushed after Hermione.

It didn't take long to find her—she stood in the abandoned atrium staring at the garish fountain of "Magical Brethren" with her hands across her chest. Harry slowed from his concerned trot and walked to her side. Without a word, he put an arm around her shoulders.

"I hate this place," Hermione whispered. Though she wasn't sobbing aloud like Susan, a steady stream of tears ran from her face. "I absolutely hate it. I hate wizards and witches. I hate how bloody stupid everyone is. Magic is so…so…wonderful, and amazing. And yet those who yield it are such evil, idiotic buffoons!"

Harry had no idea what to say, so he just continued to hold her. After a moment, she leaned her head on his shoulder. "I thought I was going to die."

"I know."

For the first time, she sobbed. Still unsure what to do, Harry made no effort to resist when she spun into him, grabbed onto him with a death grip, and sobbed into his chest. Instead, he put his arms around her and found himself rocking slightly, staring into the distant shadows of the ministry and trying to understand how he could possibly make any of the situation better. The sound of her sobs was almost unbearable to him, bringing him to the edge of tears himself not because he was hurt, but because she was.

Finally, though, the worst of the sobbing passed. He sensed her start to pull away and released his own grip. She backed away and wiped her red nose with a wad of tissue. "I must look a fright," she whispered in a thick, hoarse voice. "Mum always said I should never cry around anyone else, but I just…"

"You look beautiful." And she did. Harry realized, as he stood staring at her, that Hermione was beautiful, red nose and swollen eyes and everything. She blinked up at him, though in fact he only had an inch or so on her, and whatever she saw made her cheeks tint red.

"You believe that, don't you?" she asked softly.

Harry, not trusting himself to speak, nodded. He opened his mouth to tell her—to tell her that she was the most beautiful person that he'd ever seen; that he loved how strong she was, and how kind. He was going to say so much to her, but the moment he drew breath to speak a deep, black agony stabbed into his mind from his scar.

His words turned to an agonized shriek as pain worse even than the _Cruciatus_ burned through his soul.

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

Hermione had no idea what Harry was going to say, but she found herself leaning forward in anticipation, as if whatever he said had the possibility of changing her whole life. Despite all the terror of her capture and the way the werewolf leered at her and licked her neck like he would a candy, her entire day boiled down to a pair of earnest green eyes telling her that she was beautiful.

He opened his mouth to say more, and then screamed.

Hermione jerked and then watched in horror as Harry flung himself backward hitting the floor with a hard crack even as he grasped his forehead with both hands. His whole body convulsed in time with his screams. "Harry! Somebody, help!"

She rushed to his side and tried to hold him down so he'd stop cracking his head on the hard tiles of the atrium floor, but he was too strong and in too much pain. "Help me!" she screamed again. He was flailing so hard she threw herself on top of him, struggling with all her might to keep him from hurting himself. It all came to an end when an invisible wall of magic struck her like a brick and sent her stumbling back numbly.

She fell hard on the floor, biting her tongue as she hit, and stared numbly as Harry's body flew upright as if jerked by strings. His eyes…his eyes were red, just like Voldemort's, and he sneered down at her in contempt as he raised his wand.

The heavily booted foot came out of nowhere, it seemed, and slammed into the side of Harry's head with what should have been enough force to put anyone down. Kyle Katarn, over a century old, straightened from a kick that men a quarter his age would be hard pressed to make, and stared grimly as Harry stumbled back. He did not fall, though. Once again he straightened as if pulled by invisible strings.

"Katarn," he said in a sibilant, hissing voice. "The alien wizard. Did you think your little toy was really enough to defeat Lord Voldemort? I am forever, and you will all suffer! Starting with her!"

Hermione turned to look past Kyle where she saw a terrified grouping of witches and wizards staring at Harry with Voldemort's eyes. But with his last sentence, she ripped her eyes back to the want pointed at her. " _Crucio!"_ he shouted.

Hermione tensed but she felt nothing, not even a pinch. Kyle slowly made his way to stand near her. "You can't hurt her!"

"I will destroy her! _Avada Kedavra!"_ There was no light from the wand, nor any indication of magic.

"You can't hurt her because Harry won't let you," Kyle said in a flat voice. "Your control is an illusion, and temporary at best. Harry Potter, you are a Jedi! The Force is with you. You are stronger than this weak-minded parasite. His hatred is nothing compared to the power of the Force."

Harry gasped, clutched his head and screamed as he fell to his knees. Hermione started to surge forward but from his kneeling position his wand pointed at her again. " _Avada Kedavra!"_

Again, nothing happened. Hermione rushed forward again. "Fight him, Harry! You're stronger than he is! Fight him!"

The red in his eyes began to drain away, but the strain on his face was terrifying for Hermione to behold. Every tending stood out; every vein bulged. Spittle ran down his cheek. "Run, Hermione!" he managed to gasp. "Run, I can't….I can't…"

"I won't run!" She didn't bother to wipe away her tears. "I won't run from you, ever! You fight him, Harry! You fight him and you win! I can't lose you, Harry. Not after all this, not now! FIGHT HIM!"

"Hermione!"

She grabbed him despite his shaking and held him to her chest. "You fight him, Harry," she sobbed. "You fight him! Please, fight him!"

Suddenly he went limp, collapsing completely against her. She sobbed as she held him, rocking aimlessly. Kyle came and knelt down beside her—she could hear his knees popping from the effort.

Gently he reached down and placed a hand on Harry's head. "You did it."

"Harry?" She craned her head to look down and saw his tired green eyes staring up at her, ringed in red with tears of his own. He looked bruised and beaten, and she could feel wet from his scalp where he'd banged his head so bad against the tiles. "You did it, Harry!" she whispered. "You did it!"

"No, Hermione, you did," Kyle said.

Hermione blinked and looked up at the ancient Jedi in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"There's only one power stronger than the Force. And without it, Harry couldn't have won. You saved him. Thank you." To her confusion, he leaned over and kissed the top of her head, as if she were his own daughter.

"I don't understand," she admitted.

Harry groaned then, and her understanding didn't matter. Others arrived then, including an older witch with a healer's bag. She began casting healing magic over him, concentrating mainly on his scalp.

Hermione stared down at the beautiful, heroic boy with his face against her chest and fought an urge not to sob again. His eyes closed but the expression of strain was gone, leaving only exhaustion.

"He's going to be okay," the healer said softly. She touched Hermione's cheek. "I never thought I would meet anyone even braver than Harry Potter. Well done, my dear. Well done."

Hermione nodded, still in a daze. However, even in her state she couldn't miss the raised voices from the clump of adults nearby. More people had arrived, many in Wizengamut robes. One loud voice rose above the others. "That's it, I resign!"

Hermione frowned as Rufus Scrimgeour threw his hat to the floor. "I am an auror, I never wanted the position anyway! I only accepted the nomination because no one was left alive to do it. You see the only decent candidate before you anyway!"

He pointed at Amelia Bones, and from the way many of the Wizengamut members started muttering, Hermione had no doubt she was looking at the next minister for magic.

"Will you help me get him out of here?" the Mediwitch asked.

"Where?" Hermione asked.

Another witch arrived—a surprisingly young-looking clone of the first, but with pink hair. "Watcher, Hermione. I'm Tonks, one of Amelia's band of aurors, and this is my mum, Andromeda Tonks. We're going to take you and Harry back to Hogwarts for now. Kyle's gonna stay here and help the Boss."

Not realizing Kyle had left, Hermione turned and saw that indeed the old warrior was standing by Amelia's side, arms crossed and heavy brows furrowed as he glared at anyone who disagreed with anything Amelia said.

"I want to stay with Harry," Hermione decided resolutely.

"Wouldn't dream of anything else, luv," Tonks said. "Come on, let's get this boy to bed. He's had a long day."


	32. Master and Apprentice

A/N: And here is the final chapter of The Katarn Side.

* * *

 **Chapter Thirty-Two: Master and Apprentice**

To see a list of Kyle Katarn's enemies, look under "Extinct Species".

Luke Skywalker sat speaking to Lily and James Potter over drinks in the Leaky Cauldron. The Jedi Grand Master sat surrounded by a faint blue nimbus of the Force, while James and Lily Potter were translucent, with the light of dingy windows behind them passing through their forms.

Nearby, the stunningly beautiful Helena Ravenclaw sat at another table staring longingly at the table where Harry's parents sat speaking to the spirit of a man who died hundreds of thousands of lightyears away.

Luke seemed to be aware of Harry's presence first and turned to study him intently. "We've been waiting for you, Padawan," he said with a warm, welcoming smile.

Lily and James both turned to watch him. Even in death, Harry thought his mother looked beautiful. The color was washed from her appearance, though he could see hints of red in her hair and cheeks. James looked like an older version of Harry himself, though he wore glasses where Harry's eyes were corrected as soon as he and Kyle reached Ossus.

"What are you doing here?" he asked to his parents more than anyone. "How can you be here?"

"Where is here?" Luke answered for them, though his tone was rhetorical.

"Am I hallucinating?" Harry asked. "Is this real, or all just in my head?"

"With the Force, Harry, you should know the two are not mutually exclusive," Luke said with a wry smile. Meanwhile, Harry's parents each stood from the table and flanked him, his Mum on his right and his Dad on his left. Without a word, the two embraced him.

"You asked Sirius a question, once," James whispered in his left ear.

"And the answer is yes," Lily whispered in his right. "We are so proud of you, Harry."

Harry felt his eyes tear up as he felt the one thing in his life he could never remember—the embrace of his parents. "But I don't understand, why are we here?"

The room around them darkened. Harry turned and saw another shade sitting at a table near the bar, her eyes rolled back in her head and her back stiff. In a shockingly deep, cavernous voice she said, " _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies_."

Frowning, Harry looked between his parents to where Master Skywalker continued to sit calmly. "But what does it mean?"

"Your Dumbledore was not a kind or good man as most would describe it," Skywalker said. "But he was not needlessly cruel, nor did he often act without reason. He was driven by what he thought necessary. The one question you and Kyle never asked was why he thought his actions toward you necessary. It is an important question, Harry. And because of how magic works, it is not too late to ask."

"Speak to his portrait," his Mum whispered, having never let him go. "Speak to the portrait soon, and remember, Harry. Remember we love you. We're proud of you."

"Mum…"

He woke in a soft bed, staring up into shadowy rafters far overhead. A soft snort made him turn his head to where Hermione lay curled up in a plush chair next to the bed, easily within touching distance. Soft rivulets of hair hung down across her face, with one curl in particular bobbing in time with her breath.

 _I was going to tell her I loved her,_ he thought to himself _._ The thought was both warming and chilling. He knew the words were bandied about so easily, but he'd never thought they would apply to him. But when he looked at her he felt as if he could barely breathe; that she was the sole reason for his existence.

His mind, though, drifted from her to his dream, and within it, what Master Skywalker said of Dumbledore. He thought of the terrible loss he felt when he thought Kyle had died. Objectively, his master's actions could have been seen as terribly cruel. Harry knew that his master needed the world to think he was dead, and the most effective way of doing that was to make Harry think he was dead. But he waited for days before letting Harry know the truth, and during those days it felt as if his whole world had collapsed.

Was that really so much different than Dumbledore placing him with the Dursleys? Perhaps in scale, but what if there was a reason?

He loved Kyle despite what his master did. He loved Anakol and even Master Ben Skywalker. He loved Hermione so much it hurt. He misled her and used her to help set the trap in the Department of Mysteries. Was he any different? Who did Dumbledore love?

Who _did_ Dumbledore love?

He was up before he realized it. His Jedi robes, wand and lightsaber lay on a nightstand beside his bed, opposite Hermione, and he dressed in silence. He looked back repeatedly, but Hermione did not stir. Though he wanted to wake her and talk to her about his questions, he did not. Instead, he left Hermione to her sleep as he walked out of the Hospital Wing.

Somehow, he was not surprised to see Kyle waiting for him by the Headmaster's office stairs. The man looked ancient and cast in shadows as he stared intently at Harry. Harry himself didn't say anything to Kyle, but instead turned to look at the gargoyle who guarded Dumbledore's office.

"Master Skywalker?" Harry asked, somehow knowing why Kyle was there when he was..

"He was the one who guided my to Little Whinging, seven years ago. And he guided me here, now."

"And just like then, you were there," Harry said simply. He turned, confident with his master by his side, and stared intently at the stone gargoyle who guarded the headmaster's office. Somehow, the enchanted guardian knew to step aside and let them pass. He felt Kyle's hand on his shoulder and smiled, though his heart beat rapidly.

The headmaster's office looked naked and bare—most of the odds and ends had been packed away in boxes. The bookshelves remained, though the books themselves were stacked on the floor awaiting someone to go through them. The rest of the furnishings were gone, though, even the massive desk.

The walls, however, still teamed with all the portraits of former headmasters. Dumbledore's took a position low on a wall behind where his desk used to set in a moderately sized frame compared to some of the other large portraits. He sat in a high-backed wooden chair within the portrait, slumped to one side as if asleep.

Without a word to his master, Harry stepped to the portrait and placed his wand to the frame. "I know you're awake."

The eyes of Dumbledore's portrait opened and he smiled before sitting up in his chair. He then made a show of yawning and stretching luxuriously. He did not speak, though.

Harry waited, but the portrait simply stared back. Harry realized, then, that this was not the headmaster, only a simulacrum like the other portraits he'd seen. "Who did you love, Dumbledore?" Harry asked.

The old man beamed at him, as if he'd just solved an infuriating puzzle. "You," the portrait said simply. "Your parents. Dear Minerva and all the staff. I loved my brother, though he would not accept it. I loved my dear sister, lost these many years. I loved everyone."

"Even Tom Riddle?"

"Even Tom, at least once upon a time."

Harry took a deep, ragged breath. "Why did you place me with the Dursleys? Why did you try to trick me here with the Goblet? Why am I so important?"

"Because, my dear boy, _either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives."_

Harry sucked in a breath. "So I have to kill Voldemort?"

The painted image of Albus, so lifelike within his frame, stroked his beard while shaking his head gently. "No, my dear, dear boy. I wish it were that simple. If that were the case, I would have raised you myself. I would have taught you all I could and given you the tools you needed to defeat him. That is not what the Prophecy meant. I knew that the moment I saw your scar."

The room around Harry darkened to a single point of light—the moon shining through the stained glass windows high above. The realization felt like a blow to his stomach so strong he could not even find the strength to draw his breath. "I'm a horcrux," Harry whispered when at last he could breathe.

"Did you ever hear the story of Humfrey Kilbowy?" Dumbledore asked, rather than give Harry an affirmative.

Harry frowned, unable to pull his mind from the horrid realization that his life was maintaining Voldemort's. "What?"

The portrait leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. "A brave lad, one of the Founder's first students. The end of the first millennium was a violent time and their understanding of warding was not the same as ours. The Pictish tribes were constantly attacking. The only way they could ward the future castle was through blood rites that required human sacrifice. And so they held a lottery—a lottery which included the children of the Founders themselves. But Humfrey Kilbowy snuck into old Godric's office and made sure all the tiles in Godric's enchanted hat held his name only. He told no one but Godric, and then only after he was chosen."

"But…the Grey Lady said he screamed and cried."

"He did, Harry," Dumbledore said sadly. "But he did not fight. Bravery is not fearing the end, but rather doing what must be done despite the fear. Humfrey so loved his fellow students, especially dear Helena, that he could not bear to see any die when his own death could protect them all. This did not mean he himself wanted to die, only that he very much wanted those he loved to live."

"So…you knew. All along, you knew I had to die for Voldemort to cease."

"Yes. But I did not know everything. When I faced a reanimated Tom Riddle in what would have been your second year, over the body of poor Ginevra Weasley, I realized that you were not the only one. It was a terrible realization, made more so by the loss of such a beautiful, promising child. I admired what your master was trying to do for you, but in the end your fate was here. It always was, from the moment Voldemort marked you as his equal."

Harry bowed his head. "If it was you, would you have died?"

"Evidently, I already did," Dumbledore said with a wry smile. "But I think we both know that death is not something to be feared, but rather just another great adventure."

Harry nodded and opened his mouth to speak, only to realize that there was nothing else to say. Instead, he turned and walked away from the portrait. Kyle followed behind in silence, supportive but not intrusive.

Without a word, he walked back to the hospital wing. Kyle stopped at the entrance and simply leaned against the door frame as Harry walked to the plush chair where Hermione slept. Harry sat down on the bed, and the creaking of the springs woke her. She blinked back her sleep and removed a strand of hair from her eyes. "Harry? You're awake."

He nodded, absorbing every aspect of her face in the dim lighting of the wing. She noticed his oddly attentive gaze and straightened in her chair to face him directly. "What?"

"I don't know for sure," he said, struggling to find words. "I mean, I don't have a lot of experience with this sort of thing, but I was afraid if I didn't say it now, I wouldn't ever have a chance. So I…I mean…well…."

"Harry?"

"Yeah, I think I may love you a little."

Her lower jaw dropped as she stared at him, but a second later her brows furrowed. "Only a little?"

This time it was Harry's turn to stare, speechless, until Hermione leaned forward and kissed him. "I may love you a little too, I think," she said, saving him from floundering too bad.

Harry couldn't help but wrap his arms around her. "That's good, Hermione. I think everything's going to be okay, because…because we know now. Right?"

She leaned her head into his shoulder. "That's right."

He kissed her forehead. "Good. I… goodnight, Hermione. Dream of me, okay?"

"I already do," she admitted with glowing red cheeks. "Almost every night."

Harry felt as if he were going to burst—so much so his eyes were growing moist. So, desperate not to lose control, he leaned forward and kissed her. When their lips parted, Hermione slumped back into her chair until Harry levitated her to his bed and pulled the cover up around her shoulders. He'd seen Kyle use the Force to send someone to sleep before and was surprised he could do it so easily.

"I'll dream of you too, Hermione," he whispered.

He turned to leave the hospital wing, but almost stumbled when he saw a lanky figure standing beside Kyle. Even in the dim-light, he could see scraggly, unkempt white-blonde hair and the wrinkles and stains in what was once a robe of the finest acromantula silk. Harry walked toward Draco Malfoy, but with each step he felt heavier and heavier.

"You're here for _him_ , aren't you?"

Draco's eyes were red and swollen. "He's… _possessed_ Snape. My father's dead. He killed him, but said it was because of you. He said if I didn't get you back there, he'd kill my mother and me. He already hurt her—we were only able to save her because I brought Dumbledore's wand. He's using it, how. You destroyed his old one, he said."

"What makes you think I'll go with you?"

"Please, Potter! It's my mother! Kill me if you want to, I don't care anymore. Maybe I deserve it. But please save her."

Harry could sense only honest fear from the other boy, and wondered what they would have been had he attended school. Friends? Enemies?

"Then I'd better go."

Draco blinked back his tears. "Really? No tricks? He said you'd come, but…"

"No tricks," Harry said. "But Kyle's coming too. Take us both there, but don't say anything about Kyle. Instead, you get your mum and get out."

Draco, too desperate to look a gift horse in the mouth, nodded fervently. "Whatever you say, Potter. Come on, I have a portkey."

Draco turned to lead them out of the castle. Harry paused only long enough to glance back at Hermione. "For her," he whispered before following with Kyle at his side.

As they walked, he reached into his robe pockets and removed his invisibility cloak. Kyle took it in silence, knowing without words what Harry was thinking. One way or the other, it was time to end this.

The night was brisk but not cold. There was no moon, and perhaps because of it the stars shone so much brighter than Harry remembered seeing them on this world. As they woke, Draco glared at him. "I hate you so much." There was no passion in the words, just a lost, hopeless declaration of fact.

"I know," Harry said. "I'm going to die for you anyway."

"You and your stupid messiah complex," Draco whispered. "Always the hero, always trying to do the right thing. I wish you'd never come back. Never even been born."

Harry said nothing as the other boy ranted. He could sense Kyle nearby, but he could no longer see him. Draco didn't even seem to care. Finally, they reached the edge of the castle wards. Drago removed a length of frayed rope from his pocket. "Grab it," he ordered. Harry did so, and felt Kyle take it through the cloak as well.

Seconds later, the world erupted in wild, chaotic motion. The Force screamed as they tore through reality at impossible speed, only to instantly arrive in a huge, darkened room. Draco stumbled away from Harry. "He's here, Master!" Draco cried. "Please, let me take my mother away. Your promised."

Harry sensed the shadow before he saw it. It felt like a sewer in the force—a roiling cesspool of utter hatred and darkness. From the shadows emerged Severus Snape, his eyes glowing eerily red from the monstrous magic that possessed him. Around his shoulders slithered Voldemort's snake, shimmering with protective magic.

"I did promise, didn't I?" Voldemort said through Snape's voice. It produced an awful, bi-tonal sound that grated on Harry's ears—a harsh, grating whisper over the normal tone of Snape's voice. "But sadly, I will need Narcissa very shortly. Or at the very least, I shall need parts of her. You, however… _Avada Kedavra!"_

Draco screamed in horror a second before Harry instinctively jumped in front of the of the curse. He did so fully intending to take the curse; he could just as easily Force-pushed Draco away. His blow sent Draco flying just as something struck his head like a hammer. He had a brief sensation of flying through the air, but that was nothing compared to the wet, tearing sound he felt inside his head.

He heard screaming and shouting, but he could not summon the energy to pay attention to anything other than the utter, excruciating pain that bore down into the depths of his skull. It was a deep, stabbing, visceral pain that suddenly, abruptly ended.

He found himself prostrate on the floor, gasping. He managed to look up to see Draco Malfoy staring back at him, jaw's agape and wide eyes. "Get your mum and get out," Harry whispered, shocked at the hoarseness of his own voice.

"Why'd you do that?" Draco asked. "How…?"

"A life for a life, Draco. Go, save your mum."

The teen scrambled to his feet and sprinted from the large, mostly unlit room. Harry rolled onto his side and saw, to his horror and delight, the severed head of Nagini not ten feet away. Ten feet beyond that, Voldemort and Kyle Katarn dueled.

In some ways, this duel was both less and more impressive than their first encounter at the Ministry. Voldemort's magic was obviously hampered by the energy required to possess Snape. And yet Kyle was physically exhausted to start with. The fighting was somehow dirtier than before. The Dark Lord did not bother with broad, awe-inspiring attacks, but rather used the whole of his magic to kill.

Kyle, driven to the edge of his body's limitations already, depended on the Force to shield him from Voldemort's attacks, moving only when absolutely necessary. The air burned with living fire and blue lightening. Walls cracked and the floor buckled. Overhead, portions of the house's painted, plastered ceiling blew up and outward into the starry sky.

Voldemort fought with angry snarls, rage filling every portion of his face and expression. However, his borrowed body moved clumsily, as if somehow Snape were fighting him. The magic flowed with stunning ferocity and power, but he simply could not move with the grace Harry remembered from the Ministry.

But Kyle looked so _old!_

Harry stood, surprised that his legs didn't shake. In fact, other than the echo of the pain he felt just moments before, he felt astonishingly good. He reached up and felt moisture on his forehead—when he pulled his hand away he saw a black ooze mixed with blood from his scar, but already the blood was congealing. It didn't hurt any more, at least not more than any ordinary cut would hurt.

He examined himself in the Force and could find nothing wrong at all. He glanced to his right, and in the far shadows he saw two figures stumbling away—Draco and his mother. The two boys' eyes caught and held for the merest second before the Malfoy survivors escaped.

Somehow, seeing them escape felt like a release to Harry. He reached down and gripped his lightsaber with his right hand, his wand with his left, and with a yell jumped into battle to help his master.

Voldemort's eyes burned not with rage, but something new. " _How?"_ he hissed as he cast a powerful curse.

Harry, though, felt no danger at all from the curse. The curse struck him in the chest in a shower of sparks, but did nothing else.

"Die, damned you!" Voldemort cried. This time, he didn't bother with a direct curse, but rather conjured a spear and banished it toward Harry.

Harry negligently blasted it away with the Force and took a step forward.

"You've discovered Dumbledore's final plan," Kyle Katarn panted form nearby. "The Elder Wand owes loyalty only to those who win it. Draco Malfoy won it from Dumbledore, but Harry defeated Malfoy. That wand was never yours, Voldemort. The only thing you can hurt on Harry with it was the last portion of your sickened soul that you lodged in his forehead fourteen years ago."

Voldemort stepped back as Harry approached. However, the Dark Lord was too powerful to simply give-up. He twirled his wand and the floor under Harry exploded in flame. This time, he didn't wait calmly because he most _definitely_ felt the danger, not to mention the heat. He leaped out of the flames just as Kyle leaped over them, and the two Jedi attacked Voldemort in one concerted strike. Magic flared against their lightsabers, rebuffing their blows. Kyle lashed out with lightning while Harry shielded his master with magic. Always they spun and twirled and attacked, forcing Voldemort back step by step.

He conjured spears, arrows, monsters and shadows, but Kyle easily dissipated the magic with the Force while Harry pressed the attack; Harry cancelled the magic using some of Dumbledore's training while Kyle pressed the attack. Always one or the other was on the offense, always pushing the wizard back and back again.

Finally, snarling in rage, Voldemort tried apparating only to suddenly spurt black blood from his shoulder when he popped back into existence just feet away. "What?" he screamed, spraying spittle as he clutched his splinched arm.

The door to the far size of the ballroom blasted open as Amelia Bones led the charge into the room, followed by easily a hundred aurors, hitwizards and volunteer Ministry employees. Harry knew without doubt that it was she who cast the atni-apparition jinx that just forced Voldemort to splinch himself.

Glowing red eyes glared around at the line of witches and wizards which had him completely surrounded. Finally, though, they locked onto Harry. With a negligible flick of his wand he conjured a large knife and abruptly disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

Harry felt the warning in the Force and started to move aside, and it was that alone which kept the knife from entering his heart. Instead, it sank with a wet thud deep into his right shoulder as Voldemort rematerialized from the black smoke which allowed him to cross the floor in seconds. Snape's face twisted with incoherent rage. "I will kill… _erck._ "

Harry's lightsaber slid through the man's stomach. "Mine's longer," Harry whispered back through his own pain. He placed his hand over that which held the knife and pushed hard against the nerve in his wrist, forcing him to release the grip. Once the hand was off the handle, Harry stepped back and slashed his saber up, perfectly bisecting Severus Snape's torso and head in a single swipe.

Somehow, he expected a last show of defiance; a last burst of terrible magic. There was none; Voldemort had no horcruxes left; he had no soul to continue after death. The body of Snape fell back against the parquet floor with a wet splat and did not move.

Kyle stepped up beside him. "Are you okay?" he asked. His own voice dripped exhaustion.

Harry nodded, then frowned. "Oh, yeah, I god stabbed."

Kyle blinked and saw the handle sticking out. "Hmm, so it seems. Probably want to have Andromeda look at that."

"I killed him."

"Yep. Don't feel too bad. He wasn't much of a teacher, or a human being, really. So, ready to go home?"

Despite the pain of being stabbed, all Harry could think of was Hermione. "We do have to go, right?" Somehow, he made the question sound like a plea.

"We do, Harry," Kyle said somberly. "But that's not to say we can't ever come back for visits."

"That's true."

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

THREE YEARS LATER

"Thank you for coming, Auntie!" Susan Bones said as she gave her Aunt Amelia a deep hug.

"How could I miss it?" Amelia said. "My only niece has graduated from Hogwarts. And six NEWTS is something to be proud of."

Susan beamed happily. With a last hug, she left to find her seat with the rest of the small class of graduating Seventh Years.

The Commencement Ceremony was a new event pioneered by Minerva McGonagall when she took over as headmistress of the School. It seemed that past generations used to have commencements, but Dumbledore cancelled them during Voldemort's first rise and simply never restarted them. That changed in Susan's seventh year.

"Minister Bones? They're ready for you."

Amelia did not care for Percy Weasley, but she had to admit the officious little man was efficient, if nothing else. She accompanied the young man onto the stage that occupied the north end of the quidditch pitch. As she settled down, she found herself looking at the smallest graduating class in Hogwarts history. A total of thirty two children sat looking at each other with exhausted, happy smiles. It was a class that saw several deaths and withdrawals over the years. Only four children graduated from Slytherin house out of the ten who started in Susan's year. And of the six who did not graduate, three were dead.

The class was historical for another reason, though. It was the class which got to meet Harry Potter, the Jedi. The papers not just in Britain, but across the magical world, heralded the victory of a fourteen-year-old warrior against the worst dark wizard the world had seen since Grindelwald. The end of the fight, captured by several enterprising Ministry workers who just happened to have recordable omnoculars, became the stuff of legends.

Everyone wanted to know just who this boy and his master were, who wielded glowing swords and moved faster than any mere human. Why kind of Magic did they wield? Where was Harry hiding for so many years?

More importantly, where did they go? Kyle Katarn and Harry Potter disappeared literally within the hour of Voldemort's death. No one on Earth knew where, and even three years later, people were still asking where they went, but no one knew

Amelia's eyes met the eyes of Hogwart's Head girl, and the two women shared a smile. _Almost no one._

McGonagall took the podium, looking prim and proper as always. She stood in her traditional witch's hat as she viewed the students. In the stands overhead, parents, friends and families listened proudly as the headmistress delivered a fine, rousing speech. She exhorted them to make the world better than when they arrived.

"To make magic wonderful again!" she finished.

Amelia clapped with the rest. She'd always liked McGonagall, and it amazed her, as old as she sometimes felt, that Minerva had been her teacher as well when she finished Hogwarts. Amelia wasn't sure if the Headmistress intended it, but her speech was a perfect segue to Amelia's own. She stood when Minerva introduced her as the Minister of Magic and waived as she accepted the applause. She couldn't help but notice more applause came from the students than the parents.

Nor did it bother her in the least.

"Good afternoon, class, and let me add my own congratulations on your accomplishments." The applause that followed was more restrained in anticipation of her further remarks.

"The last three years have been, in all honesty, the most exhausting and frustrating I have ever experienced. When you consider I was an auror in Voldemort's first rise and lost my whole family, I hope you appreciate just what that statement means. I'm sure that more than a few of you have heard my name cursed nightly over dinner tables. There is a good reason for that. Just as crups do not like having their noses shoved in their own droppings, your parents and grandparents did not enjoy my forcing them to face their own mess. And let me tell you, it was a mess."

The students chuckled over that; the stands were eerily silent. Amelia stepped out from behind the podium and resorted to a simple _sonorous_ charm to ensure she was heard by everyone. "When I fought Voldemort, on both occasions, my cause was hampered by a level of corruption and incompetence in the Ministry of Magic that led directly to the deaths not just of co-workers, but of friends and families. I thought things were better the second time around, but harsh experience taught me otherwise. Headmistress called on you to make your world a better place. I know you will, because frankly you cannot do any worse than those who came before you."

This time, there was no applause as the students realized Amelia had no intention of delivering yet another "Good luck" speech that the two years before had seen.

"Within the first month of my tenure as Minister, with little if any investigation at all, I discovered that very nearly every single department head in the Ministry, even people who I would otherwise describe as decent, hardworking witches and wizards, were regularly accepting bribes and kickbacks.

"Within the first six months of my tenure, I discovered that every single member of the Wizengamot was accepting payment for votes. I repeat, children: every…single…one. There was not a single member of the Ministry of Magic above secretarial stage who was not, in some form or fashion, corrupt."

She placed her hands behind her back, fully aware of the angry glares from the stands above her, and the concerned looks in front and behind her. She did not care. "I will be honest—I considered resigning. I know from my friend Rufus Scrimgeour that the corruption he encountered was one of the main reasons for his own resignation when I emerged from my undercover assignment during the second war with Voldemort. It would have been so easy to walk away from the mess your parents and grandparents made. But then I thought of my dear niece Susie, who was kidnapped along with our own Head girl by Voldemort's forces. She and Hermione Granger were personally rescued by Harry Potter, Kyle Katarn, myself, and the only honest Aurors who existed in the Ministry at the time. And it made me realize that if I did not try, no one else ever would."

Pacing along the stage, she paused as if in thought. "The first step was cleaning out the Ministry and forcing everyone to reapply on the condition of an Unbreakable Vow. It seemed so odd to me that no one ever thought of how easy it would be to force honesty in the Ministry. Unless, of course, no one wanted that honesty to begin with. So I demanded it. And I can tell you in the last year, we've only had one case of bribery in a department head, discovered in the body of Ludo Bagman."

Now the silence in the Quidditch pitch was so profound Amelia could hear the wind whistling through the stands. "I dismissed the Wizengamot. Oh, yes, the papers had a field day with that. Dictator Bones, they called me. The British Fuhrer. The Iron Bitch. So be it—as an institution the Wizengamot was so sick and cancerous it threatened the life of all magical Britain. So the hereditary seats are gone. Seats are now based on popular election, with minimum standards of education and experience to even run. And yes, Wizengamot members are required to make an Unbreakable Vow for the tenure of their office. It is vague enough that they can do the necessary work of their office, but if they take any action knowingly against the interest of the kingdom, they will fall dead where they stand, as discovered by Antony McClaggen two weeks ago. While I feel for his son, I say here and now that any witch or wizard who betrays the country deserves the fate magic brings them. Just as your parents and their parents before them deserved Voldemort."

This last statement garnered a response—several parents and spectators started booing and shouting from the stands. Amelia, however, ignored them and looked at the students. "Your parents, and their parents, they deserved Voldemort. But you, you future leaders of Magical Britain, deserve a fresh start. You deserve a blank slate to try and build something better. And for the past three years, I have driven myself to the brink of death to give that future to you. To you, Susie. Finally, I can say I'm done. Everything else is up to you, to either build on what I've done for you, or to tear it down and repeat the mistakes of those who came before you. As for me, you can find me in the stars."

People screamed in alarm as the air right above the pitch shimmered to reveal the forty-meter black and gray, forward-swooping shape of the _Preening Crow._ Students stumbled back from the chairs while parents and assembled guests hugged each other in alarm as the ship hovered in a shimmering bubble of anti-gravity like magic just two meters above the stage.

McGonagall, alone of all the professors, had not abandoned the stage. "Amelia!" she shouted over the sound of the ship's drive. "You're not truly leaving, are you?"

"I told him I had a job to do," Amelia said, grinning back at McGonagall as if she were a girl herself. "I've done my best, and by Morgana it's time for me to live for myself!"

The ramp opened and two people stepped out into the air. The younger of the pair fell to the stage and landed with barely a bend of his knees. The second held both hands palm down on either side and floated gently to the stage. The older man had iron gray hair and beard. He was thinner than the last time they saw him, but McGonagall could see this was none other than Kyle Katarn and Harry Potter.

"Am I early?" Kyle asked over his own ship when he reached Amelia.

"You're right on time!" Amelia said. To the shock of everyone watching, she leaned up and gave the elder Jedi a long, lingering kiss. "Take me away, Kyle Katarn."

"Gladly," Kyle said with a happy grin. He nodded to Minerva, wrapped an arm around the former Minister for Magic, and levitated both of them back to the ramp of his ship. Minerva stood watching, shocked and yet not entirely surprised. Finally, her eyes lowered back to the other visitor, and she found herself covering her mouth and fighting back tears.

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

"You came back," Hermione said flatly.

Harry Potter stood before her nervously, while around her fellow students stared at the Boy Who Conquered. The past two and a half years had done a lot for Harry, she noticed. He would never be a truly tall man, but he had grown into a respectable adult height and filled out a great deal. She couldn't spot a trace of fat on him. His hair was trimmed short and neat, his green eyes stared at her with the same simple earnestness she remembered from their first meeting.

"I had to finish my training," he said. "And you needed to finish your schooling."

"So you're done?"

"I am a Jedi Knight," Harry said simply. "I serve the Order, but my life is my own. And…well…if you want…Iwouldlikeyouinitwithme."

Hermione frowned as she tried to decipher his last jumble of sound. "Kyle was talking to Amelia," she accused.

"Yeah."

"Why didn't you com me?"

"Your unit's battery died," Harry said with a shrug. "I couldn't get a signal to you. Kyle thinks it was the magic around here. I tried, Hermione. I promise I tried. I've spent the past two years wanting to talk to you."

Hermione looked back over her shoulder at her classmates. Susan especially looked as if she were about to start crying, though Hermione hoped it was in happiness at seeing Harry again. "So, are you going to sweep me off my feet and take me to the stars? I don't hear from you in two and a half years, and you show up here expecting me just to go with you?"

Harry stood gaping at her, his face frozen in alarm at a reception he obviously was not expecting. Finally, though, he calmed down and simply looked at her. "Yes," he said simply.

Hermione marched right up to him, put a finger on his chest, and said, "Okay, let's go."

He took a breath to answer his argument, but then blinked. "Wait, what? I mean, really?"

"Really," Hermione breathed as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him like she'd wanted to for the past three years. Behind her, Susan started to clap and cheer, setting off the rest.

"You know, three years can change a person," Harry said with they parted. "I'm not the same person I was when I left."

Hermione laughed. "Oh yes you are, you goof. And even if you're not, I look forward to finding out how you've changed. My trunks in my pocket, I wasn't planning on staying in Britain anyway. So, take my away too, Harry Potter."

Grinning so wide it looked as if his face hurt, he nodded and wrapped his hands around her waist. After a moment of thought, however, he frowned and looked at her. "But you knew we were coming back."

"Of course, Harry. My best friend's Aunt was the Minister of Magic. I know things." She winked and kissed him, before leaning up and whispering in his ear. "I've been waiting for you, Harry Potter. No more waiting. Take me home."

Harry wrapped them both in the Force, and to the cheers and happy calls from his former classmates, he levitated the two of them up to the ramp of the hovering _Preening Crow_. The two stood on the lip of the ramp, looking down at the Quidditch Pitch.

"Will I ever see them again?" Hermione asked. "My parents, I mean?"

"Well, yeah, Earth is only a week away from my estate," Harry said. "I'm an adopted cousin to the Emperor of almost half the galaxy, you know. I figure we should probably meet. In fact, what do you think they're doing for dinner tonight? Kyle wanted to pack up the things he left here, so we have the night to ourselves."

Hermione couldn't help but beam. "I love you, Harry Potter."

"And I love you, Hermione Granger."

"Happily ever after?" she asked.

"Until the sequel," Harry agreed.

Hermione laughed and shook her head. "No sequels, Harry. Drama requires pain and anguish, and all I want from you for the rest of my life is happiness. Can you do that?"

He kissed her as he slammed the ramp shut. "As a former Jedi master used to say, 'Do, or do not. There is not try.' I _do_ promise to spend every moment of the rest of my life doing everything I can to make you happy. And that is my unbreakable vow to you."

Below, wiping her eyes, Susan Bones bid farewell to her aunt and her best friend. "I wonder what Cedric is doing," she whispered to herself, before grinning saucily.

Finis

* * *

Final A/N: Thank you all for reading. I can say that I finally got my sappy "Officer and a Gentlemen" ending.


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